


Florentine

by Mazarin221b



Series: Florentine [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Caning, Comeplay, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom Phichit Chulanot, First Time, Flogging, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nipple Clamps, Pining, Restraints, Sub Chris Giacommeti, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Wax Play, Whips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Yuuri and Pichit are Dominants living in New York. At a play party hosted by Yuuri’s mentor, Minako, Yuuri sees Victor Nikiforov, retired champion and recent novelist. He’s there to research for a mystery novel about the murder of a submissive, and he wants to understand their midset. How better to do that than to become one himself? So, through his friend Chris, he’s introduced to Yuuri, one of the best Doms around, to train him to be a Submissive.Problem is, Yuuri knows Victor. His idol. His childhood crush. He watched him skate and tried to emulate him until he finally realized that skating just wasn’t going to be in the cards for him and quit 5 years into the senior division. Victor had no idea who Yuuri was, having competed against him once and only once: At Skate America almost 6 years before.But Yuuri can't deny that this opportunity is incredibly tempting, and he's not strong enough to say no.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the wonderful Liz (Pursuitofnerdiness). She's a damn delight, and signed up for the freaking 15 chapters I've already got planned out. What, Liz, you didn't know that? AHAHAH SUCKER.
> 
> Okay, so, LET'S HAVE A DISCLAIMER NOW SHALL WE?  
> I am not in the scene. I am not an expert on BDSM. While I've read and researched for years, and I strive to be accurate, this fic IS NOT AND SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN TO BE EMBLEMATIC OF ANY REAL LIFE BDSM RELATIONSHIPS.  
> They are as wide and varied as anything you could imagine, and this relationship will exist specifically between these two people, and will always be SAFE, SANE, AND CONSENSUAL. There will be limits. There will be negotiated acts. There will not be non-con. There will not be true harm. There will likely be angst because people don't always communicate well.  
> This is not a how-to booklet of how to practice. Just have fun with it and let the boys have fun, shall we? Then let's begin.

Yuuri taps a flogger against his thigh in the soft, warm light of Minako’s most recent acquisition: a TriBeCa loft that had once been part of a silk garment factory, now gutted and restored and home to the biggest BDSM play party of the year. 

It’s a gorgeous place, all exposed brick and floor to ceiling mullioned windows, sparkling with candlelight and the murmur of a hundred enthralled voices. There are various small groups talking, eating, laughing; some sitting by the feet of others, some led on a leash, some being kissed, touched, wrapped around another’s body. But the most dominating feature by far is a thin, dark-haired, tattooed man lashed by his ankles and wrists to a St Andrew’s cross stationed in the middle of the room.

And he’s waiting for Yuuri’s particular ministrations.

“Color?” Yuuri murmurs near his ear.

“Green.”

“Good.” Yuri swings out with the soft suede until the tails wrap around the man’s thigh with a gentle swish. The man breathes out a sigh and Yuuri narrows his eyes at the light pink swath left in his wake. Not enough, honestly. Adrian is well capable of more, but Minako specifically told him to keep the demo a bit tame to not scare off any newcomers. So he flips the tails out again and wraps Adrian’s other leg, then his waist, careful to only mark one area at a time until his entire back and upper thighs are turning a beautiful, dusky rose. 

Yuuri assesses. Adrian’s hard and leaking already, wound up, on edge much faster than Yuuri’s experienced in the past from him, but performing for an audience can be nerve-wracking.

Yuuri knows this all too well.

So he snaps Adrian on the ass, making him twitch and swear and pull on his restraints.

Yuuri wanders close, drags his nails over Adrian’s ass and up his back until he can lean close again. “Color?”

“Green, sir, please,” he whispers, and drops his head back down, chin against his chest.

Got it. Yuuri steps back and swings the flogger again, a long, full-armed stroke that is perfectly calculated to leave a nice welt rising on the crest of his ass: a little lasting reminder for Adrian during the day tomorrow. Adrian moans his approval, and the sound goes straight to the pleasure center in Yuuri’s brain, bringing him the rush he craves, he  _ needs _ , a flash of power that suffuses his entire body with deliberate, erotic purpose.

He glances out at the audience gathered around him as he stalks around Adrian’s helpless body. Usually  the crowd fades mercifully into the background at times like this, but here they’re pressed much closer than he’s accustomed to. He sees a few familiar faces, a few friends, and as he reaches the side of the crowd he catches Chris Giacometti’s eye. He’s leaning casually against a pillar, shirtless as usual and oddly collarless tonight. He winks and Yuuri tries not to roll his eyes. One the prowl, then. But as he turns away he catches a glimmer of rather familiar silver hair right at Chris’s shoulder.

Yuuri startles and almost drops the flogger.

Because the man standing next to Chris, the man leaning ever-so-slightly forward with an absolutely rapt look on his face, is none other than the star of Yuuri’s more lewd fantasies, inspiration for his first, rather desperate choice of career, and a face that still smiles at him from a poster he keeps folded up in his desk and only looks at when he’s feeling particularly bad about himself.

Retired figure skating legend Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri turns around quickly and walks up to Adrian, uses the pretense of checking the welt he left as an excuse to catch his breath. He’s not sure how long he takes until he hears a quiet, concerned “Sir? Is everything okay?”

Shit. Yuuri needs to get his head together. Adrian is in his care. He can’t lose focus. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you okay? Let’s get finished here and maybe we can set something up for next week, just the two of us.”

Adrian nods and smiles. At least, he smiles until Yuuri refocuses, takes aim and snaps the flogger against his ass again.

……………………………………………………………………………..

Pitchit catches up with him as soon as the scene is over and Adrian’s aftercare is handled. Yuuri left resting on a sofa in the quiet room with a few other subs and happily downing a slice of cake, cheerful and forgiving of Yuuri’s momentary lapse in concentration. Yuuri, however, isn’t quite so happy with himself as he cleans his toys and repacks them in his bag.

“What the hell, Yuuri?” Phichit says, dropping down on the floor next to him. “You utterly zoned out. Did you almost safeword or something?”

“No, Jesus, Peach, I didn’t safeword. I just—“  Yuuri viciously shoves his riding crop into his bag. “You won’t believe who’s here.”

“Who? Oh God, don’t tell me JJ’s here. He’s such a twatwaffle, I swear I’m about to yank that chain he keeps Isabella on right out of his hand the next time he—

“No, Phichit, God. No. It’s worse.”

“Worse than JJ?”

“I kid you not, Chris is here with…with  _ Victor Nikiforov _ .”

Phichit just stares in utter stunned silence. 

“Peach? Did you hear me? I said—“

Phichit just waves his hand at Yuuri’s face to silence him. “Yes, I know what you said, I’m just struggling to process.  As, in THE Victor Nikiforov. The figure skating legend. The one you have had a boner for your entire life. The one you took up professional figure skating to impress. The one who writes books now. That one.”

“Would you shut up! Yes. That one.” Yuuri tries to whisper but the constant hum of people makes it impossible to be heard without raising his voice a little. “I don’t understand. Why is he here?”

Phichit looks hilariously confused by the question. “Uh, why are we  _ all _ here?”

Yuuri feels a pair of arms slide around his shoulders from behind and a stubbly kiss on his cheek. “Why are we all here, Phichit darling? To be taught a very special lesson, right, Yuuri?” Chris purrs into his ear. Yuuri swats him away and feels panic spiral up in his stomach. 

“You never learned any lesson I tried to teach you, brat,” Yuuri says, and focuses on finishing putting his equipment in his bag so he doesn’t have to turn around to see the person he absolutely  _ knows _ is standing there as well. He takes a deep breath and makes himself straighten and stand up. He finally turns and of course he’s absolutely correct.

Victor. In all his perfect, glorious flesh, complete with those devastating blue eyes and a pair of slick dark jeans. His silver hair is styled perfectly to fall over one eye and Yuuri is about to melt into a puddle right there in the middle of the room. 

That is, until he remembers who and where he is. 

He’s no swooning teenager staring at posters on his wall. He’s an adult, a practicing Dominant, and Victor is in  _ his  _ house, now. 

So he takes a deep breath and snags Chris under the chin with his finger and tips his head back to give his neck an exaggerated inspection. 

“My, my, my. Brazen. Anyone would think you were out looking for a keeper, Christophe.” Yuuri casually hooks his thumb into Chris’s mouth to tilt his head back down. Chris winks and, as expected, sucks lightly on it. 

“You’re the only keeper I’d have ever wanted, cheri,” he says. “But alas, you and I, as two ships passing in the night. But I’m being incredibly rude. I want you to meet a friend of mine, from my skating days. Victor. This is his first time at a party, so be extra nice, okay?” Yuuri has  _ Nikiforov, his last name is Nikiforov _ on a constant loop in his head as Chris smiles and pulls Victor forward a touch. “Victor, this is Yuuri and Phichit. Two of the most adorable and fierce Doms in the game.” 

Yuuri snickers and wipes his damp thumb on his pants and holds his hand out, never more glad in his life that he never made it past a single appearance at a Grand Prix series event six years ago and is allowed this shred of anonymity. Victor looks interested and amused and doesn’t hesitate to shake Yuuri’s hand. 

“Hi!” he chirps. “Nice to meet you both. Chris has told me a lot about you. Your demo earlier was fascinating.”

Yuuri can feel his face go a touch pink. “Thanks. Adrian’s fun. He likes showing off, too, so that makes things a bit simpler.”

“He’s easy, you mean,” Phichit says, cutting in. “I’m about to go get a drink, now that we’re finished for the night. Do you guys want to come with?”

Chris nods “Yes, please. Victor’s here for a reason, and it sort of involves you both.”

Phichit looks at Yuuri and Yuuri just shrugs, bewildered; it’s not like he’s got some magical insight into Chris’ head. But they collect drinks and find some open seats on the balcony. Yuuri settles into a squashy, low-slung chair and breathes in the soft spring air, taking a moment to settle the butterflies that threaten to erupt.  

“So, what’s going on?” Phichit says. “I didn’t even realize you were in town.”

Chris takes a long drink, pauses, then leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks serious, contemplative, and a bit unsure. “Like I’d miss this party. But really, I need a favor. Well, it’s not my favor, but I promised Victor I’d talk to you and see. Victor is writing a book, a murder mystery where a submissive is killed by her Dom.”

Yuuri and Phichit both recoil. “Oh hell no. No way,” Phichit says. “It was bad enough after the Clarendon murder, I don’t need another book about murderous Doms, for the love of fuck, Chris.”

Chris sighs and rubs a hand over his face. Yuuri looks at Victor, who is biting his lip and still hasn’t said anything. “See, I told you they’d react that way,” Chris says, and shrugs at Victor. “You’d better explain it.”

“Okay. Well.” Victor scoots forward on his chair. “I’ve known Chris a long time, and I know he’s into this, and I think it’s really fascinating. I had an idea a few months back, about a murder that people think is a BDSM relationship gone terribly wrong – you have to admit it makes for a good novel. So, I thought I’d write the story of an investigation into the murder, and how the investigator is pulled deeper and deeper into the scene and realizes there’s no possible way the murderer was an actual Dom, and finds the murder was a homicidal sociopath who insinuated himself into the community and never actually was a real dominant at all.”

Phichit sits back and looks skeptical. Yuuri’s pretty sure he looks the same, but it’s not the first time someone hasn’t understood. Victor looks pretty sincere, so Yuuri decides to humor him for a bit. 

“How much of our lifestyle do you really know, though? What you’ve heard from Chris, or read on the internet? Have you ever been in a scene, or anything like it?”

Victor brightens up at Yuuri’s questions in a way that portends bad things, he’s sure of it. “Not even once! So that’s what I was hoping to find out!” he says, enthusiastic and smiling. “I want to learn how to be a submissive. How to get into my victim’s head, to understand her motivations and how she could have fallen for his tricks, and how a real Dom is supposed to behave. That’s why Chris thought of you two.”

Yuuri’s nods calmly, considering, while internally screaming about what he’s just heard. Victor wants to be a submissive. He wants one of them to teach him. He wants to be trained. 

Yuuri needs to remember to breathe.

“Nope,” Phichit says. “I’m out. I don’t train subs. I don’t have the time or patience for that nonsense.”

Yuuri then knows Phichit is the very best friend he could ever have, because what just came out of his mouth is a flat-out lie and three of them at this little chat know it. 

“Come on, Yuuri, you know it’ll be fun,” Chris says, and his smile is teasing, almost salacious. “I promise he’s legit.”

“He doesn’t have the inclination, though,” Yuuri says, and it sounds weak even to his own ears. 

Chris laughs. “You sure about that?”

Victor turns pleading eyes on him, deep blue in the spring twilight, and says “Please?” in the sweetest voice Yuuri could possibly imagine, and he knows he’s done.  Imagines it with just a bit more of an edge, a plea for more as Yuuri lovingly ties him up from neck to ankles, red ropes against pale, porcelain skin, suspended and ready to be treated in any way Yuuri sees fit. 

This is a terrible idea.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he says instead. 

Victor beams. Phichit laughs. And Chris, that asshole, looks much more smug than he has any right to.

Yeah. A really, really terrible idea. 

It’s going to be great.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor blinks. “I think, Yuuri, that I am willing to give myself into your care. In every way I can.”
> 
> Yuuri reaches forward and grasps Victor’s wrist, his grip firm, but not bruising. Practiced.
> 
> “Then let’s get started,” he purrs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Liz, hernerdiness, for doing awesome and detailed betawork!

Victor checks the address once again, straightens his collar and smooths down his hair. He paces a couple of steps across the stoop, stops, lifts his hand to knock on the glossy black door of Yuuri and Phichit’s brick townhouse, and pauses. Again.

He’s almost positive he’s gotten in way over his head. He’d told Chris so several times, each time the hysteria mounting higher and higher, culminating in a small meltdown in his kitchen less than an hour before he was to leave.

_“This is crazy!” he snapped at Chris. “You’re asking me to put myself into the hands of a perfect stranger, to let him…I don’t know what! Slap me, or hurt me, or, or, fuck me! He’s going to want to fuck me, isn’t he?”_

_Chris rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to do anything. Remember, this was entirely your idea, mister writer man. The real experience, you said, and well, I’m giving it to you, all wrapped up in a hot little package. He might want to fuck you, he might not. I know he’s fucked me, and it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the point.”_

_Victor raked his hands through his hair. “But you know what you’re doing!”_

_“That’s what he’s going to teach you, mon chaton. How to know, and how to please him.” Chris walked over and pulled Victor’s hands from his hair. “Trust me, Victor. Trust him. I know you don’t know him but I_ do _. He’ll be sure you’re comfortable before anything happens. I swear. And when you do please him, there’s nothing like it in the world. Believe me, I saw the look on his face when you met. He would like nothing more than to make you beg for it. You’ve got his attention, Victor, and that’s rare enough. His partners are few and very select.”_

_Victor chuckled ruefully, his fear subsiding somewhat. “Do you really think he found me…attractive? At all? Because he’s gorgeous and I don’t know if I’ll survive this if I can’t make him at least feel_ something _. I mean, he’s got to get some satisfaction out of it, right?”_

_Chris just hugged him and rubbed a calming hand over his back. “If you don’t come out of this with him eating out of the palm of your hand, then I never knew you at all.”_

Victor blows out a breath, grips his courage with both hands, and knocks. There’s a few moments of silence, then a scrabbling of door locks and Victor braces himself as the door swings open.

Yuuri. Standing there in perfectly ordinary jeans and a deep blue tshirt, barefoot, and his hair is soft and tousled over his forehead, not slicked back like it was the other week. And he’s wearing _glasses_.

“Hi,” he says, giving Victor a bit of a perplexed look. “Are you alright?”

Victor snaps himself out of his own head. He’s being rude. “Yes! Sorry, I was just. Um. You just look ah. Different, than last week.”

Yuuri giggles and the sound is _delightful._ “Well, yes, of course. What did you expect? Leather and chains?” He gestures Victor into the hall and begins to lead him toward the back of the house.

“Well…”

“No, that’s later,” Yuuri says, and winks as he leads him through a wide-open kitchen with an entire wall of windows on one side, with a French door set into the center. Victor trips over the area rug as he walks through. Smooth, Nikiforov. Fucking hell.

Yuuri steadies him with a hand on his arm. “I was just kidding, Victor. You can relax, you know. We’re just going to talk today. There’s a whole lot we need to go over first.”

Talk. Yes. Victor can certainly do that, and takes a seat on the wicker sofa Yuuri directs him to on his small back patio. He’s got a pitcher of what looks like strawberry lemonade and snacks set out, and a rather intimidating looking stack of papers sits in a neat pile right next to it. Victor’s hands curl over his knees. He’s not even sure what to do next.

Yuuri doesn’t seem uncomfortable at all, simply climbs onto the other end of the sofa and tucks his feet under him. He looks soft and quiet, nothing at all like the commanding Dominant that Chris described to him when the idea first came up months ago, or even the person he saw last weekend. He’s studying Victor like he’s memorizing his features, and Victor realizes he’s waiting for something. Waiting for _him_.

“I have to be honest, Yuuri. I’m a little afraid I might have underestimated, here. I have no clue what to do.”

Yuuri’s lips quirk in a smile and he nods. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Because frankly, you have no idea what you’re getting into, and I’m glad that instead of trying to bluff your way through it you felt how uncomfortable it was and you were honest with me. That’s incredibly important. If this is going to work at all, you must be honest, always, without hesitation. And I will be the same with you. Do you understand?”

Victor nods, slowly, relieved at least to have passed this unexpected first test. “That seems fair.”

“Not just fair, essential. Now. I assume you’ve talked a lot of this over with Chris and at least have some idea of what’s involved in being a submissive, right?”

“Yes, he’s talked…quite a lot, actually, about it,” Victor says wryly, and Yuuri laughs. “And I’ve researched quite a bit already. I’ve read about some of the things you do, how it feels to submit to someone else’s control. In Chris’s case, sexually. But I understand that’s not necessarily always the case?”

Yuuri shifts in his seat, untucks his feet and leans over the small table to pour lemonade. He silently hands Victor a glass. Victor takes it without saying a word and wonders if Yuuri is going to answer his question.

Yuuri settles back into the cushions and looks into his glass, studying the strawberries that float there. “Well, yes, you’re right that sex isn’t always involved. Control and giving up control can be its own reward, its own turn-on. I’ve done plenty of scenes like that. Like last weekend; I didn’t touch Adrian sexually, not once.”

“I noticed.”

“Is that something you’d be interested in? A non-sexual way of being submissive? I realize we don’t know each other well, but, to be honest, I prefer having access to my partner’s body in almost every way I can.” Yuuri lifts his eyes and Victor‘s breathing speeds up at what he sees reflected in his intent gaze: pure, naked desire and a flash of power that Victor can’t look away from. He’d been debating how he wanted this experiment to play out: a soft, sexless lecture in service, being tied up or bossed around or forced to submit to various whims and needs of his Master, or, as Chris described, a full giving over of himself to Yuuri, to entrust him to help Victor find that fine line where pain bleeds into pleasure, until they’re one and the same; until Victor instinctively trusts Yuuri to do what’s best for him, for his body, and all he has to do to achieve nirvana is to let go.

Victor blinks. “I think, Yuuri, that I am willing to give myself into your care. In every way I can.”

Yuuri reaches forward and grasps Victor’s wrist, his grip firm, but not bruising. Practiced.

“Then let’s get started,” he purrs.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“When you said ‘get started,’ I didn’t realize there’d be so much paperwork,” Victor grumbles. “A liability release? Seriously?”

Yuuri laughs and pops a piece of cookie in his mouth. “I play with knives, Victor. Of course there’s a liability release.”

Victor snaps his head up, but Yuuri looks completely nonchalant. “What the hell do you do with knives?”

“Bloodplay, mostly. Or just to intimidate. You’d be surprised how many people love the thrill of an extremely sharp object near their most vulnerable places, though I admit it’s not something I do often.”

Victor signs the release. The next set of papers is a thick stack, labeled “Limits.” Victor writes his name on the line provided and starts to look through it.

“Anal sex, oral sex, comeplay, fisting?” Victor starts checking off various boxes labeled “Hard limit,”   
“soft limit,” or ”Yes please!”

“Make sure you ask if you don’t know what anything is,” Yuuri warns.

“Well, I know what’s definitely a hard limit,” he says, and marks a huge X in the hard limit boxes for golden showers, scat play, bloodplay, electricity, breathplay, fire, fire and ice – wait. “What’s fire and ice?”

“Hot wax followed by ice. The contradiction can be intense.”

Victor considers and puts a mark in “Yes please!”

He finishes the rest as quickly as he can. Spanking gets a yes please, as does flogging, and Victor takes a second to imagine himself in Adrian’s place on the cross. Bondage, whips, suspension bondage, cock rings all sound okay, and nipple play makes him tingle. He finishes up and hands the stack over to Yuuri and watches, stomach tense, as he runs his eyes quickly down the boxes.

“Interesting. Our hard limits are fairly similar, though of course I have fewer than you. I can work with your soft limits – caning can be really intense, but we’ll work up to it – and your acceptable list is much longer than I expected.” Yuuri looks up at him and smiles. “I’m glad you’re not into a whole lot of bodily fluids. I draw the line at anything but come, really.”

Victor has a sudden vision of Yuuri’s come smeared across his mouth. It’s so real he can feel himself dart his tongue across his lips in response. _Jesus._

Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice; he wraps all of the paperwork up with a black ribbon and puts it into a locking case, then looks up.

“Hand me that pen,” he says casually, indicating the pen they’d been using, which is across the table from Victor and right next to Yuuri.

“It’s…right there,” Victor says, puzzled. Victor would have to scoot forward and lean over to get it and give it to him, whereas it’s less than a foot from Yuuri’s hand.

“Mmmm. So it is. But I told you to hand it to me.”

Victor catches on immediately. He leans forward, swipes the pen from the table and tosses it to Yuuri, who catches it with narrowed eyes.

“That’s not what I said, Victor,” he purrs. His voice has dropped, and carries a quiet, steely edge. “I told you to hand it to me. Be polite.”

Oh god. Victor swallows carefully and slowly returns to his position on the other end of the couch. The afternoon sun is dazzling and warm on his shoulders and his gut is starting to buzz with tingling anticipation. Is this how they start? This careful exploration? What should he do now?

“I’m sorry?” he says, voice rising with his uncertainty, and flinches.

Yuuri smiles.  “Very good.” He kicks out a foot and pushes the table away from the sofa, before sliding down a bit and crossing his legs, his gaze now intense and focused. “Kneel for me, Victor. You have lovely posture. Let me see it.”

Victor blinks. “Um. Not to be disrespectful, but these pants are—“

“You might want to reconsider,” Yuuri says, careful and sharp. Victor takes the warning for what it is and slips down to his knees and prays to the dry cleaning gods for their understanding. Yuuri stands and draws closer, and slowly walks around him, scrutinizing Victor’s body.

“What you think about my requests doesn’t matter, Victor,” Yuuri says, and pulls Victor’s shoulders back slightly so his chest is pushed out and head tipped up. Victor is abruptly reminded of Lilia’s ballet classes. “You’re here to please _me_ , to satisfy _me_ , is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Yuuri prompts.

Victor swallows. “Yes, sir,” he says, and the words feel slightly strange on his tongue. He’s called many people sir or ma’am in his life, but it never felt quite like this. “But what do I get for doing what you tell me?”

Yuuri chuckles. “Your pride, for now. Chris wouldn’t have even thought twice, and you’re competitive with him, I think. But later? It could be many things.”

Victor shifts on his knees. They’re starting to hurt, his toes awkward in his shoes where they’re pressed against the hard stone of the patio. Yuuri stills him with a hand on his shoulder, the heat bleeding through the fabric of his shirt, and leans close to Victor’s ear.

“Would you like me to fuck you?” he says, and goosebumps erupt along Victor’s entire body.

“Um, well, I—”

Yuuri moves to stand in front of him until the front of his jeans is less than six inches from Victor’s face. “Or maybe you’d like to suck me off?”

Victor’s entire field of vision is nothing but denim and the edge of a blue tshirt, and he can’t make out a single twitch, or even a slight thickening behind it.  Is Yuuri even turned on by this at all? Victor’s hard and he’s horrified he’s leaving a wet spot.

“Kiss me?” Victor bites out, desire blurring away any last reservations he might have had. Yuuri closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“No, not on the mouth,” he says. “But other places.”

Victor is immediately disappointed. Yuuri steps away from him and sits down so they’re eye to eye.

“I need you to choose a safeword,” Yuuri says, and his voice is a bit fuzzy, filtered as it is through the haze of Victor’s curtailed arousal. “You know what a safeword is, yes?”

Victor nods slowly. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it. Chris told me to.” He’s got to get his head together. Yuuri has barely even touched him, for fuck’s sake, and he feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Good.” Yuuri drags a fingernail over the shell of Victor’s ear, and he can’t help it, Victor’s eyes close and his shoulders sag with shuddering pleasure. “What is it?”

“Salchow.”

Yuuri pulls his hand back and Victor could swear he heard a quick intake of breath.

“Is—is that okay?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s…it’s fine. Salchow,” he repeats, and his slight accent gives the word a beautiful lilt. “It’s a jump in figure skating, correct?”

Victor nods and glances up. Yuuri’s voice has turned a bit quieter, softer, and he looks…sad?  

“Good. Never be afraid to use it if things go too far, too quickly. Even right now. There are other signals, too, but we’ll go over those later.” He seems to shake himself out of wherever his mind went and takes Victor’s hands and places them on top of his thighs. “This is your waiting position. I expect you to be in it when I see you next.” He then looks Victor right in the eye and slides his hand through Victor’s hair, his fingertips dragging across Victor’s scalp in a loving caress. Victor’s head lolls on his neck for a moment, luxuriating in the sensual touch until Yuuri unexpectedly tightens a fist in his hair and pulls his head back. Victor’s eyes pop open in shock; not really in pain, necessarily, but he knows if Yuuri so much as twists it’s going to hurt.

“Are you still ready for this?” Yuuri asks quietly, still holding onto his hair.

“Yes, sir,” Victor responds, and there it is, there’s the flash of heat he’s been longing to see, and he’s drowning in the way Yuuri’s eyes go dark with desire.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping Victor’s cheek. Victor sighs and tries to nuzzle into the touch. Yuuri lingers a moment, then pulls his hand away abruptly. “Then I’ll see you next week. I’ll send you further instructions before then.” He lets go of Victor’s hair and skims his hand through it to straighten it, then takes Victor’s hands, helps him rise, and brushes the dirt from the knees of his pants. Victor is so dazed by what just happened he can’t string two words together. Why is he doing this again? Oh, yes. The book. Writing. Got it.

Yuuri leads him through the house again and to the front door. He opens it politely and ushers Victor out onto the front stoop. “Goodbye, Victor. I look forward to next Friday.” He starts to close the door, but Victor slaps a hand against it.

“Wait,” Victor says, panicked. “What should I wear?”

Yuuri grins, wicked. “It really doesn’t matter. You won’t be in it longer than two minutes after you enter this house.”

He closes the door and Victor sags against the railing, weak in the knees and absolutely undone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor, clad in nothing but low-slung purple briefs, hair perfectly coiffed, kneeling precisely as asked with his hands carefully placed on his thick, beautiful thighs. Head poised, back delicately arched as if he were at the barre. And his face, oh god.
> 
> He’d turned at the sound of the door and his smile is soft, inviting, _seductive._
> 
> Yuuri has to turn around and pretend to lock the door just to give himself a mental slap. _Yes, he’s here, yes, he’s beautiful, yes, he wants you to do all sorts of filthy things to him but you are responsible for him, so fucking handle yourself, Katsuki._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Liz, who has the sort of eye for detailed beta that gives me High School flashbacks. But there are some times I ignored her so if I screwed up that's on me. <333

Yuuri closes the door and leans against it, then slides all the way down to the floor.

_ Victor, Victor, Victor. _

He’d been everything Yuuri had hoped and more: responsive and tactile, easily directed and so achingly beautiful it made Yuuri’s heart thump painfully in his chest. He was also so devastatingly sexy that Yuuri is still sitting here with half a hard-on, only barely concealed from Victor’s eyes by the bind of a full-coverage dance belt. 

Yuuri fumbles his phone from his pocket and sends a quick text to Phichit.

_ Using the bathtub if that’s ok. _

His phone pings almost immediately with a reply:

_ Damn son that’s some quick work. _

_ Funny. No, for me. He’s gone. _

_ You get 20 minutes starting now. _

Yuuri chuckles, then heads for the door at the end of the hall that leads down into the basement, where he and Phichit have set up their equipment. He hates calling it a dungeon; most people do, but that whole gothic scene gives them both hives. He steps down the 23 stairs until he reaches the bottom and flips the hall lights on. The door to the playroom sits to the left of the bottom of the stairs, and there are two more doors further along the hall. One is to a storage room, and one is to the large bathroom they’d installed for aftercare, an indulgence after Phichit had gotten a promotion last year. It’s bigger than any other bathroom in the house, and while it’s not something they use every day, the large whirlpool tub is calling to his rather unsettled state. 

Yuuri pushes the door open and flips the low-level lights on. The chrome fixtures gleam against the white porcelain and the warm cork flooring, and Yuuri sighs contentedly as he fills the tub and tosses in some of the lemongrass bath salts they keep in a bowl on the small shelf above. 

It’s so quiet that as Yuuri climbs in the slosh of the water echoes against his eardrums. The heat is soothing, slipping over his skin and warming his muscles. The water rises up over his chin as he wonders what it will be like to bring Victor here after a particularly intense scene; his skin pink and wet from exertion, eyes half-closed from the rush of endorphins from the orgasm Yuuri had denied him for hours. Yuuri imagines nestling Victor between his thighs, letting his head fall back against Yuuri’s shoulder as the shiver of adrenaline takes him and Yuuri pets his hair and kisses his neck and tells him how beautiful, how perfect, how amazing he is.

Yes, Yuuri thinks, as he slips his hands down his thighs. That’s perfect, has pushed him all the way past hard into aching. He passes a hand over his cock lightly, teasing himself for a few moments before he jerks himself with slow, luxurious pulls, his orgasm building and building as he remembers the silk of Victor’s hair sliding through his fingers, his pupils dilated with arousal. Yuuri’s quick breaths echo against the tiled walls, back arching as he comes.

Yuuri rinses his hand in the water then pushes it through his hair. If that’s what he feels like after barely touching Victor, he can only imagine what it’s going to be like to fuck him. 

Yuuri feels giddy for a moment, before the guilt washes over him.  

He shouldn’t have told Victor his preferences before Victor had made up his own mind. Yuuri’s post-orgasm satisfaction abruptly disappears and he thumps his head back against the side of the tub. Dammit.

“You’d better be done jerking off because I’m coming in,” Phichit calls through the door. 

“You’ve seen it like a billion times already,” Yuuri calls. “Just come in.”

Phichit throws the door open and practically dances over to the side of the tub, dropping onto the short stool they keep there and puts his chin in his hands, expectant.

Yuuri wonders if he could just wait him out.

“Don’t even try,” Phichit chirps. “I will be here until the end of time or you tell me how things went, whichever happens first.”

Yuuri sighs. “Okay, okay. He was…perfect, Peach. Like, better than I could have hoped for.”

Phichit leans forward, like he’s gotten the juiciest gossip of the year and won the lottery and it’s all happening right in his own house. He’s beaming. “That’s fucking incredible. But how do you know? I mean, you just did all the paperwork and everything, right? Is his yes list really long? Is it gonna get  _ really wild _ ?” 

Yuuri bites his lip. “Well, I may have screwed up, just a tiny bit,” he says.

Phichits smile falls. “What. How?”

“I. Um.”  _ C’mon, Yuuri, you’d better confess and get it over with. _ “I sort of. I told him I liked sex with my partners. Before he’d made up his own mind. And. Um. I sort of already pushed him to see what he’d do, and oh, he kneeled so beautifully.”

Phichit’s eyebrows are in his hairline. “You had him kneeling? Did you ask first, or talk about it at all?”

“Er. No. I just. I wanted to see if he’d take direction. You know, I’ve done that before where you tell them to hand you a pen or whatever, and I couldn’t help it, he was ready. I didn’t really do anything else, though.”

Phichit quirks his mouth into a half-frown, considering. “Well, it’s not the best but it’s not awful, either. He did it, though?”

“Yeah.”  Yuuri closes his eyes, remembering the sinuous line that runs from Victor’s neck to his shoulder. “He’s coming back next Friday. I need to be ready. More in control. I can’t let him know he’s got that much of an effect on me. I can’t fall for him, Phichit. I’ve got to be stronger.”

Phichit laughs and ruffles Yuuri’s hair, affectionate. “Oh, sweetheart. I think you’ve lost that battle already.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

The week seems to drag on forever. Yuuri goes into a frenzy of cleaning from the time he gets home from work until after ten o’clock at night, scouring every inch of the usually spotless playroom and scrubbing the grout in the tiles of the bathroom with an old toothbrush. He polishes every inch of chrome and brass exposed in the playroom, oils the leather harnesses, wraps and re-wraps the ropes. Only Phichit’s cabinet is left untouched, except for when Yuuri climbs up a ladder and vacuums the top. Phichit catches him at it and refuses to let him live it down; he finds notes all over the house with “Clean here” and arrows pointing to shelves, the fridge, behind the sofa, even Yuuri’s own bedroom.

“Fuck you,” Yuuri calls, and pulls the note off of his door. “I can’t help that I’m nervous.”

“I know, so we may as well take advantage of it,” Phichit says, from his open door across the hall. “Have you sent him his ‘welcome to the party’ email yet?”

“That’s what I came up here to do.”

“Not to give you advice or anything, but I will anyway: remember this guy is used to performing through pain. He’s probably stronger than you’re used to, but don’t take advantage of it.”

“I know, I remember what it’s like.” Yuuri remembers the horrifying bruises and bloodied feet; he wonders if Victor’s skating has left any permanent imprints. “I wonder if he still skates at all.”

“Probably. You still do. Why wouldn’t he?”

Yuuri nods and sits down to compose the list of instructions for Victor’s visit on Friday. Simple, to the point, no room for misunderstanding.

_ Victor: _

_ I hope you’re doing well this week and you’re still prepared to move forward with our agreement. If so, here are the things you need to remember for Friday: _

_ Arrive at7:00 pm sharp. Do not be late. Do not be early. _

_ You may walk into the house without knocking. Simply come in, follow the hall to the black door with an antique brass knob situated at the very back, and take the stairs down. The first door you encounter will be open.  Undress down to your underwear and place your clothes on the stool that sits right inside the door.  _

_ Take your waiting position on the red cushion that will be in the middle of the floor.  _

_ I will meet you there, and I expect you to be ready by 7:05. _

_ I look forward to seeing you. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have in the meantime. I have received the copy of your STI test results, thank you. Everything looks good. _

_ Yuuri _

He still can’t quite believe this is happening, but he hits send anyway and crosses his fingers he didn’t mistype the email address Victor gave him. He then scrubs his hands over his face, flops onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. 

He’s got some serious planning to do, and it’s already Wednesday.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Friday at 6:57 pm finds Yuuri sitting patiently on the other side of the sliding door to the living room that sits perpendicular to his front door, looking at his phone and trying to keep his leg still so the incessant tapping doesn’t give him away.

6:58. Any time now.

6:59.

7:00. Yuuri’s heart thumps with anticipation, but there’s nothing.

7:01. The click of the door and hesitant steps. Damn.  

Lesson one.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

At 7:05 pm on the nose, Yuuri takes a steadying, calming breath and opens the door to the playroom. 

And tries not to come in his pants at what he sees.

Victor, clad in nothing but low-slung purple briefs, hair perfectly coiffed, kneeling precisely as asked with his hands carefully placed on his thick, beautiful thighs. Head poised, back delicately arched as if he were at the barre. And his face, oh god.

He’d turned at the sound of the door and his smile is soft, inviting,  _ seductive _ .

Yuuri has to turn around and pretend to lock the door just to give himself a mental slap _. Yes, he’s here, yes, he’s beautiful, yes, he wants you to do all sorts of filthy things to him but you are responsible for him, so fucking handle yourself, Katsuki. _

So he says nothing, simply walks across the room to stand in front of Victor, wishing that lovely smile could last all night. But it can’t.

“Good evening, Victor,” he says. “You were late.”

Victor blinks. “I wasn’t! I mean, I was here at five after seven, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but I said to be at the house at seven. Not early, not late.”

Victor looks down, disappointed. “I’ve messed up already?”

Yuuri sighs. Oh, this is going to be so difficult. “Yes, Victor.  You’ll learn I mean exactly as I say. No more, no less.  This is your one warning. If it happens again, you will be punished.”

“It won’t, I promise.” 

Yuuri walks toward his cabinet and unlocks it, and selects his riding crop from among the various toys hanging inside. The feel of it in his hand grounds him, chases his nerves away. He leaves the door open, just so Victor can get a good look, and walks back. “I expect your obedience in all things. I mete out punishment and pleasure as I see fit, and as you deserve. I’m not hard, nor am I unfair, but I am strict.”

“Okay,” Victor says, and shifts on his knees. “I’ll be more careful. It’s just, the cab, and traffic—“

Yuuri flicks his crop out and taps him on the shoulder. He doesn’t hit him hard, but it probably is startling.

“Ow!” Victor snaps. “What’s that for?”

“Stop making excuses. Or it’s your ass next.”

Victor opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but Yuuri sends him his most quelling look, standing over him with legs spread and crop over his shoulder. It’s an intimidating picture, he knows; he’s calculated his entire persona to be so without verbalizing much at all. Victor closes his mouth and kneels there, staring at Yuuri with wide eyes.

That’s got his attention. Yuuri circles him once again, wondering how long he could actually kneel there without getting tired. His muscle tone is still perfect, and, as he looks more closely, there is the tell-tale bruise on his hip from a fall on the ice.  He reaches out with his crop and drags the leather tongue from Victor’s nape to his waist in a long, slow pull, and watches Victor’s skin twitch ever so slightly.

“You’re going to do so much better, Victor. I know you can. We’re going to forget all about the last five minutes and start again. Shall we try out a few things and see if you like them?”

“Okay,” Victor says, slightly sullen.

Yuuri snaps forward and takes Victor by the chin, forcing him to look Yuuri in the eyes. “That’s ‘yes, sir,’ Victor. I will have you be respectful in my space.”

Victor’s nostrils flare slightly, and he looks at Yuuri like he wants to pull his head away. He’s lived his entire life with people catering to him, allowing him to have his own way, and even with his best intentions he’s still struggling to let Yuuri lead him _. Please don’t let him be as bratty as Christophe _ , Yuuri thinks. He could only handle Chris’ attitude once in a while, mostly when he was feeling particularly sassy himself and needed a challenge. But his style was too much for Yuuri every time, so they agreed they’d be better as occasional partners instead of long-term ones. Yuuri looks into Victor’s eyes and sees that same fight flaring up, but as they stare and weigh each other’s strengths, he can see the exact moment when Victor decides to surrender, his flash of temper dying like an ember in the rain.

“Yes, sir,” Victor says, the words barely a whisper, the tension in his shoulders slipping away. Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief.  He’s won this battle of wills, the very first, most crucial one, and it should only get better from here.

“Wonderful,” Yuuri coos, and lets go of Victor’s chin to cup his cheek instead. “Such a good boy. Now, I’ve got something I’d like you to try.” He walks back over to the cabinet and pulls out a short length of red rope. “I plan to bind your hands behind your back. I will check in with you occasionally as I do this, by asking you ‘Color?’ and your response will be green if you wish to continue, yellow if you want to continue but you’d like me to slow down, and red if you would like me to stop. If at any time you need out of your binding and out of the scene entirely, say your safeword. What is it again?”

“Salchow,” Victor says immediately and nods. He’s eyeing the rope in Yuuri’s hands, but he doesn’t look nervous. He looks excited, probably at the novelty of it. But he has to be slightly uncomfortable by now; he’s been on his knees for almost twenty minutes. Yuuri looks closely at his legs to see if they’re trembling and notices a scar running up the top of his right knee, and almost calls it off right there. It’s Victor’s surgical scar from his ACL repair his third year into Seniors. Fuck. Yuuri had forgotten entirely. He considers asking about it, but he’s going to let Victor tell him what is okay and what isn’t. Nothing they’re doing tonight will be that stressful, and Victor seems rock steady as he kneels. 

“Color?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Green,” he replies easily.

“Then put your hands behind your back,” Yuuri says, and Victor does immediately, even tipping his head down to his chest in anticipation. It makes Yuuri shiver a bit to see him so sweetly trusting, and he doesn’t flinch away when Yuuri begins to wrap his wrists together, tying them up with a quick-release loop just in case he panics. He slips a finger into the binding to make sure it’s not too tight, and then steps back to admire. “Color?”

“Green.”

Yes, as lovely as he’d hoped, Victor’s strong, muscular back and arms in sharp relief under the warm lights of the playroom, his head bowed and showing off a gorgeous nape, the edge of his hair recently trimmed and the rest looking soft and touchable. Yuuri steps forward and lightly presses his fingers right into the base of Victor’s skull, the edge of his hair prickly under his fingertips. He’s close enough to feel the heat from Victor’s body when he whispers in his ear.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Victor. Do you like it so far?”

Victor swallows heavily. “Yes. Sir.” He adds quickly.

Yuuri steps around to his front. “Are you wondering what I might do next, now that I have you helpless, kneeling at my feet?” 

Victor lifts his head and opens his eyes. “Yes, a little. I don’t know what will happen.”

Yuuri laughs. “That’s the beauty of submission, Victor. You don’t have to worry about it. That’s what I’m here for. Color?”

“Green,” Victor says, without hesitation. Yuuri cheers internally. 

“Then I want you to do me a little favor. I’m getting rather warm in this room. I want you to take my pants off. Without using your hands.”

Victor’s eyes go comically wide. He’s sitting there in only his underwear, absolutely unabashed, but it seems Yuuri being in the same state might be a bit much? “H—how do I—”

Oh, no, that’s not the issue. He’s afraid of  _ failing. _  “You’re a smart boy. Figure it out.”

Yuuri steps just far enough away that Victor will have to lean slightly to try to reach him. He almost laughs at Victor’s comical expression, like he can’t decide if Yuuri is insane, utterly mean, or just trying to get his dick involved. “I’m waiting,” he says, instead.

“Yes, sir. I…well. Okay, then.” He looks puzzled for a moment before he leans forward and noses Yuuri’s black athletic shirt up and out of the way of the waistband of his soft pants, and Yuuri pulls in a sharp breath.  _ Yes, good boy. It’s your turn, now. Show me what you’ve got.  _

Victor looks up and must realize that Yuuri  _ likes _ this game, and the puzzled look on his face turns into a sly smile. He takes the edge of the elastic waistband in his teeth and tugs it down one side, dragging his nose along Yuuri’s stomach as he goes. He then returns to the other side, giving it the same treatment, and Yuuri slides a hand into his hair as he does. His breath is a warm flutter against Yuuri’s skin, arousal zinging up his spine and he wants so much just to drop all the slow tease, all the pretense and just fuck his mouth right here, feed him his cock until he’s gagging on it.  Victor keeps pulling his pants down his thighs, much more slowly than he could be, and drags his lips across Yuuri’s quad as he moves to work down the other side. Yuuri can feel himself start to harden in his briefs, unable to resist the soft silk of Victor’s hair against his thighs, or the warmth of his mouth against his skin.

“So clever,” Yuuri croons. “See, I knew you could do it.” Victor pulls back and gazes at Yuuri’s very obvious erection, triumphant.  Yuuri steps out of his pants and kicks them to the side. “How are you feeling?”

“Really turned on,” he breathes, a flush suffusing his face. He’s slightly embarrassed about it but not entirely, and voyeurism is definitely on his yes list. 

“Yes, I can see that.” Victor is hard, too, and the outline of his cock against his briefs is very, very promising. “You’ve done so well, darling. Would you like to take care of that?”

Victor nods. 

“When I ask you a question I expect a direct answer,” Yuuri reminds him, voice silky smooth.

“Yes, sir.”

Yuuri walks behind him and releases his bindings with a quick tug. All the ropes fall clear of his hands with a slight shimmy, and Yuuri checks his wrists. Just a slight tinge of pink and barely an imprint. 

“Go lie on that lounge, Victor,” Yuuri says, and directs him to a leather Victorian-style fainting couch. “And let me watch you. I want to see what you like.”

Victor stands rather quickly, almost too quickly if the first stumbling step he takes is any indication. Yuuri steadies him with a hand on his arm until the head rush passes and helps him lie down on the lounge. “Will you stay close?” Victor asks, already reaching into his underwear. “Will you…will you touch yourself too?”

“I may, depending on how nicely you do,” Yuuri says, palming himself as Victor watches him with heated eyes.   _ Of course you’re going to touch yourself, who are you even fooling with this nonsense? _  “Give me a show, Victor. Make me want it.” 

Victor arches when he finally takes hold of his erection, sliding his hand over the head behind the veil of his underwear. Yuuri raises an eyebrow and Victor just smirks before he pulls his briefs down over his hipbones and frees his cock to Yuuri’s hungry gaze.

God, it’s gorgeous. Thick and full and leaking, balls flushed and heavy against his thighs. His hair is surprisingly dark as it curls over his groin, neatly trimmed and more sparse than Yuuri thought it might be.  Victor draws his thumb down the underside of his cock and lets out a shuddering moan that lights Yuuri’s senses with a cascade of electric lust.

Yuuri sits down carefully at the end of the lounge and watches, rapt, as Victor loses himself in his own touch, fingers dancing a quick rhythm over his shaft. It’s too early in their relationship to touch him the way Yuuri wants, too soon to take what he knows he likely could. “Slow down,” Yuuri says, and touches Victor on the foot to enforce his presence. “Make it last for me.  Have you ever done this for anyone before?”

Victor drags his hand down his cock and holds it there a moment, thighs flexing with the effort of holding himself back. “Nooo…oh, God, this is. My first time doing it quite like this.  _ Fuck _ .” He uses his other hand to pinch his nipple, and Yuuri can feel his own face heat as he imagines little jeweled clamps instead, ready to be flicked and played with until he pulls them off and the sensation of blood returning makes Victor moan.

“You look beautiful,” Yuuri says, and pushes the heel of his hand against his own cock. “I’m so proud of you, Victor. So brave.  And you like it, don’t you. You like making me happy.”

Victor pants the closer he gets, his chest flushed an adorable crinkle appears over his nose. “You’re so beautiful, Yuuri,” he says, and Yuuri can feel his own body tingle from scalp to toes, startled into reaction by the unexpected praise. “I’m—I’m so close, I—” and just like that he goes rigid, his orgasm rippling through his body. Come lands across his stomach in fat, white drops that gleam in the light. 

Yuuri wants to taste one. Feel him on his tongue and know his taste. 

Instead he climbs up onto the lounge to kneel across Victor’s legs, careful that no part of him touches Victor’s body, and pushes his underwear down until he can free his cock enough to get a hand on it. Victor’s half-lidded eyes watch him as he strokes himself fast and hard, his breath harsh in his nose. “Color,” he snaps. He wants to mark him, own him, take him in hand and turn him into the exact thing Yuuri craves more than any other, wrapped up in the person Yuuri’s spent years dreaming of, and the thoughts frighten him a little. He needs to know Victor is still with him.

Victor’s eyes flash up to Yuuri’s. “Green, please,” he whispers, his voice slightly hoarse. “Please.”

Yuuri chokes back a groan as he feels himself get closer, closer, his hand harsh and dry on his cock but pushing him higher, and all that keeps him grounded is a pair of intense blue eyes. 

He comes over his own fist, the fluid dripping through his fingers and landing to mingle with Victor’s on his stomach.  Yuuri stays above him and they lock eyes, and he realizes that if nothing else, Yuuri wants Victor to have no regrets about what he’s chosen to do. Yuuri knows, as he watches his childhood crush, his lifelong idol, smile lazily and drag his fingers through the come smeared across his stomach, that it’s likely Yuuri will have enough regrets for both of them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t turn his head to the door, this time, and holds his breath. His ears strain to hear Yuuri’s graceful steps whisper across the dark wood floor, and his heart flutters in his chest when he feels the impression of heat behind him.
> 
> “What a beautiful sight you make, Victor,” Yuuri says quietly from behind him, and this time it’s two slender fingers drawn down his spine instead of his riding crop, and Victor closes his eyes, breathes out,settles himself until he can feel his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week.”
> 
> “Me too. I’ve had a hard time focusing this week.”
> 
> Yuuri chuckles and walks around to face Victor. His smile is breathtaking. “I’m flattered. Are you ready, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Liz, HerNerdiness, really put the screws to this chapter and made sure that it was a technically perfect as possible. I did, however, make a few little changes because I"m a snot and am stubborn, so if you're like, "WTF" that was all me, not her. She probably told me, anyway.

Victor smears his fingers through the come on his stomach, elated, as Yuuri still drags in heaving breaths above him. His body still isn’t touching Victor’s in any way; his thighs, as perfectly muscled and sculpted as Victor’s own, are still holding him above Victor’s lap.

They lock eyes, and that singing, electric spark, that humming awareness of _something_ between them is back in waves. Victor wants to kiss him, wants to surge up and crush Yuuri to his chest, ravish his mouth, feel their bodies slide together slick with come and sweat. Wants to make Yuuri _crave_ him.

 _“No, not on the mouth,”_ he remembers. But before he can try to convince him otherwise, Yuuri climbs off of Victor’s lap.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back,” he says, looking at the floor. He walks toward the back of the room toward a small door set into the wall. Victor can see what looks like a bathroom when the door opens. Victor swallows and stays still, as bidden, until Yuuri comes back with a wet cloth and a soft white robe.

“Let me,” he says, and begins to clean up the mess of Victor’s stomach and chest. Victor puts out a hand to stop him.

“No, I can—“

Yuuri pauses, and still won’t look up. “This is part of it, Victor. It’s called aftercare. You’ve given your submission to me, and it’s my responsibility to ensure your wellbeing after.” He finishes cleaning up,  helps Victor rise, and puts the robe around his shoulders.  “Now. Come with me, so we can sit down and talk for a few minutes.”

He leads them to the other end of the long, narrow playroom, near the bathroom door, where a soft, squishy sofa has been tucked into the corner. A small fridge is nearby, and as he opens it, Victor can see all sorts of drinks have been stashed inside.  Victor is utterly bewildered.

“Water, Gatorade, Perrier? I might have a coke or something in there too, if you want…”

Victor stills him with a hand on his arm. “Water would be nice, but are you okay? This feels. Um. Rather abrupt.”

Yuuri turns questioning eyes on him. “In what way?”

“You just came on me. A hug might not go amiss.” Victor aims for humor and isn’t sure he quite hit his target, but Yuuri smiles anyway. Finally.

“I was getting there. I just didn’t want to touch you yet, as we’re not. Well. It’s early, and I tend to let people initiate first contact, to be honest. I want you to be ready for that level of intimacy.”

Victor frowns. This feels all backward to him. He just tied him up, had Victor take off his pants and then had Victor jerk off in front of him, and a simple hug is too intimate?

Yuuri must sense his unease, because he takes him by the hand and leads him to the sofa to sit down and then seats himself at the other end, his feet tucked up under him, the low lights softening the smooth biceps on display in his loose black tank top. He’s still not wearing pants.

“Victor, everything that happened today was all you, choosing to touch me. The only time I really touched you was when I touched your hair and cheek, which, I admit, was self-indulgent. Your submission was in touching me, and I have not yet really touched you, save to bind your hands, and once on the foot to help you focus.”

Victor thinks back over the last half hour. He’s absolutely right. How did Victor not notice?

“Will you ever?” he asks.

“Oh, make no mistake, I absolutely will,” Yuuri purrs, a gleam in his eye. “I’ll use you for my pleasure as soon as I think you’re ready for it.”

Victor can still feel the aftershocks orgasm fluttering in his body. He closes his eyes. “Okay. I’m really… I’m looking forward to that.” There’s a pause, and Victor can feel himself flush.

“How are you feeling about today, though?” Yuuri asks, and touches Victor on the foot again, and he opens his eyes.  “Did you like what happened?”

“It wasn’t totally obvious?” Victor asks, and Yuuri giggles. “I really liked trying to figure out how to get your pants off. That was fun. And hot.”

“You like a challenge.”

Victor nods. “Yes, that, exactly. I wanted to do it. How does that even happen?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Yuuri smiles, smug.

“I really didn’t like getting snapped on the arm, though. That hurt.”

“Yes, well.” Yuuri sighs. “Discipline is necessary. Just get it into your head right now that you’ll mess up eventually and I’ll have to punish you. I don’t really like it either, but you’ve got to learn somehow. And eventually you’ll find that it’s easier to submit to punishment than it is to worry and feel guilty about disappointing me.”

Victor’s ears perk up. “Really? Because that’s what I was wondering, for the book, how that happens.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that right now. You’re not quite ready to accept it.” Yuuri sends Victor another of his dark looks, and Victor shivers. “Though if you’re late again you’ll find out sooner than we’d both like.”

“Got it. Sir.” Yuuri giggles again, and Victor realizes he was trying to provoke it, this time. “May I ask how you got involved in this sort of thing?”

“Oh,” Yuuri looks suddenly lost, and slightly confused. Does no one ever ask about him? Chris said he knew very little, which seems odd, given how much time they’d spent together. “My ballet teacher, Minako. She’s a Domme, you know, the one who threw the party the other weekend.  I sort of overheard her talking about a party once and asked her about it. I think I might have been all of twenty. She brushed me off, but I knew, even then, I had some inclinations. I did some googling, hit up fetlife, and found my way into the party anyway, and when she saw me there I thought she was going to utterly freak out. She grabbed me and almost dragged me out of there.”

“But you convinced her to let you stay.”

“Yes, by explaining what I was trying to do, and to learn. And eventually, after a few months of showing up to various munches and parties and basically bugging her with questions, she gave in and let me go with her so I could see what everything was, and if I really thought I liked it. I did, and she started to teach me everything she knew. I owe her a lot, really.”

“Have you always been in New York?”

Yuuri pauses, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth a moment. “No. I was born in Japan, but came to Detroit for…for school. I went to university there. Then afterward, I just didn’t have a good job lined up and I wanted to stay in the U.S. I decided to try to stay in New York, as Minako had already moved here the year before. Phichit was my roommate in Detroit, so we thought we’d move together, thought it would be easier to make a life here if we were a team.”

Victor thinks. “So, how old are you now, if that’s okay?”

“I’ll be twenty-seven this fall.” He laughs ruefully. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

Aha. Victor was right that most people didn’t ask him about himself. “I find you fascinating, Yuuri. I want to know all about you. What you like, what you do. How I can please you.”

Yuuri’s eyes flash up to his again. “Oh, I’ll teach you that, don’t worry.”

“I can imagine you will.” Victor smiles and he knows it’s his most charming smile, the one he deploys to get what he wants, and it usually works. “Tell me, when do I get to see all of the other interesting toys in that cabinet? When will you show me your favorite?” Victor leans forward and puts his hand on Yuuri’s knee and tries to look as seductive as possible, even going so far as to let the sleeve of his robe slip off of his shoulder.

Yuuri lifts a single eyebrow, and Victor knows right then that sweet-talking him would be even more difficult than he’d imagined.

“Oh no you don’t, mister. Playtime is over for tonight.” Victor pouts and Yuuri affectionately pushes his hair back away from his face. “But seriously, are you feeling okay? Not jittery, or feeling nauseous, or dizzy?”

Victor starts to answer, but decides to give the question his full attention. “My knees are a bit stiff, yes. But that’s sort of my own fault.”

Yuuri tenses.  “Yes, I noticed your scar. I should have checked in earlier. Should we minimize the kneeling from now on? Are you still feeling sore?”  He slides off the sofa and, after a questioning look and Victor’s affirmative nod, pulls Victor’s leg toward him, expertly feeling around the tendons and bones of Victor’s knee, prodding and massaging the muscles that keep him stable. It’s strangely familiar, and soothing.

“It’s just an old injury, from back when I skated, professionally I mean,” Victor says. “With Chris, that’s how we met.” Yuuri just hums and nods, and continues to work on Victor’s knee. “You’re not a doctor, are you?” Victor asks.

Yuuri laughs. “Oh, no. An app developer. I just know how knees can get, that’s all. I’ve done this a long time.” He finishes rubbing the stiffness from Victor’s lower quad, his knee, and his calf, and stands.

“Here, it’s time you get dressed,” he says, and brings Victor back to the stool where his clothes are. He shakes them out then helps Victor step into his pants. Victor puts a hand on his shoulder to help himself balance as Yuuri crouches in front of him.

“Again, Yuuri , I can—“

“I’ve found,” he says, as he pulls Victor’s pants up and buttons them, “That the act of aftercare, of service, can help ground people back into the real world. It gives you a feeling of control over me that brings balance to our relationship.” He helps Victor get his tshirt on over his head and arms, and smooths it over his chest.

“There. You’re on your own with socks and shoes, though,” he says, and winks, before walking away to pick up and slip on his own pants. Victor shakes his head, fond, and finishes up, puts his wallet and phone in his pocket and stands up. Yuuri waits a few feet away, watching.

“Would you like to continue our arrangement?” he asks, softly.

Can he really not know? “Of course I do.”

Yuuri rubs his palm on his hip. “Next Friday at seven still okay, then?”

Victor can feel anticipation start to bubble up already, and he hasn’t even left. “Of course. Not one minute later than.”

Yuuri smiles, and then to Victor’s utter shock, steps forward and folds him into a hug. “That makes me so happy to hear,” he says. “I look forward to it.”

Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s smaller frame, almost completely enveloping him. He’s so small to wield so much power over Victor’s heart already. “Me too, Yuuri. Me too.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Victor leans against the cab door and watches the buildings of Manhattan flash by, bright and colorful in the dark. The city still feels overwhelming, even after living in St. Petersburg his entire life, even after traveling all over the world for skating. He and Chris will only be here a short three months, just over the summer, and Victor isn’t sure it will feel comfortable even by then.

Meeting Yuuri, though. That’s given him the strangest of footholds. A 5’6” bundle of contradictions; hair dark and slicked back from his face when he’s working a scene, soft and tousled when he’s not; commanding and fierce and undeniably sexual and at turns soft and vulnerable and strangely sweet.

Victor doesn’t know what to make of him, but he wants to know _everything_.

He nods to the doorman of their sublet apartment and heads upstairs. He’s got to take a shower and clean up properly, maybe find a drink and reflect on the day. Hopefully his experience will process down into a good writing session tomorrow. He fits the key into the lock and as soon as the door opens a hand shoots out and drags him inside.

“I don’t care what sort of come-covered mess you are, you’re going to sit your ass down and tell me every single thing,” Chris says, and pulls Victor through the loft to the front room.

“Hey, he cleaned up,” Victor says, so startled he can’t really think of anything else to say.

Chris slaps both hands over his mouth. “Oh my God, I was just _kidding_ , I didn’t think he’d actually do it that soon.”

“Ah. Well. He just jerked off on me,” Victor mumbles, face suddenly really warm. He and Chris have talked about sex for years. Why is this suddenly so difficult?

“Just? Oh, I knew it! He’s going to love you. What else?”

Victor sighs, realizes he’s not going to get out of giving him the exact rundown of his evening, so he goes to the fridge, grabs a beer, and proceeds to tell Chris the entire story, beginning to end. Chris is so enthralled he barely interrupts, which is almost unheard of.

“So,” Victor continues, “He told me that he was waiting for me, that he didn’t want to touch me until I was ready, or came to him. I told him I was, and before I left, he hugged me.”

“My God. You’re going to _own_ him. Did you like it, though? Did you enjoy it at all?”

“Yeah, it was really…satisfying. Hot. Really sexy. I liked winning that little challenge, especially.” Victor takes a drink and points his beer bottle at Chris. “He said he thought I’d be competitive with you. Which, yes, of course. But it turned him on, watching me succeed. I want to see that look in his eye again, when he told me I’d done well. It was like the first time you land a quad combo, you know? Like you’re flying and your entire body works together perfectly and you skate out of the landing soft as a feather. Like you’re doing what you were made to do. It was unreal.”

Chris smiles. “I honestly thought it would take you longer to figure it out, but Victor, you’re a natural born sub. Someone just needs to take you in hand, and it looks like it’ll be Yuuri. Lucky bitch.”

“I know, right?” Victor finishes his beer and scrubs his hands through his hair. “I want more. I don’t know how to make that happen.”

Chris leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You really can’t, though. I mean, you can ask him, but he’ll only do what you’re ready for, and what _he’s_ ready for.”

Victor tucks up into the corner of the sofa, reminded of how Yuuri tends to fold himself up on whatever he sits down on, and frowns.  “Has he fucked you? He has, right?”

“Oh honey. He had me on that fat dick ten minutes after I was in the house. But I’ve got experience, and you don’t.” Chris looks almost apologetic about it, and Victor shrugs. He shouldn’t feel jealous, but he does. He and Yuuri have shared a single experience, and Victor can’t let himself get possessive of his attention already.

This isn’t at all good.

“Victor, sweetheart. Come here.” Chris pulls him in and makes Victor lay his head on his lap. Victor goes willingly, needing the comfort and sympathy of his best friend more than anything else, even if he’s horribly jealous of him. “Yuuri is…he’s a delight. He’s fun, and he’s creative, and he’s kind. He’s also going to be the best person around to teach you what you need to know. But he doesn’t stay, honey. He doesn’t.  He and I have a great time together, but we’re not going to fuck into the sunset, you know? I see him at parties maybe twice a year, and we’ve not done a scene in a couple of years now. He’s never kept anyone around permanently, that I’ve ever known.”

Victor sighs into Chris’ hands in his hair. “Okay. I know you’re right. I’m thirty, and I feel absolutely stupid about this. I don’t even know him.”

Chris huffs a soft laugh. “You know, neither do I, really. Now, go get yourself cleaned up and we’ll watch a movie, and tomorrow we’ll go clubbing. Let some hottie get all over it. That’ll make you feel better. Promise.”

Victor nods and heads into the shower. But as he rinses the shampoo from his hair, he keeps thinking of  Yuuri’s dark eyes, deep and bewitching, looking at him with longing as he watched Victor come.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The movie does make him feel better, the clubbing makes him feel strange and creepy, and the twenty something kid who  tries grinding into Victor’s ass on the dancefloor just makes him roll his eyes. Dancing itself, though, helps shake the amped up feeling he gets whenever he thinks of Yuuri. He throws himself headlong into his writing while Chris is off at a photoshoot Monday and Tuesday and tries not to dive for his phone every time it chimes with an incoming message.

He fails, though.

By the sixth chime Wednesday afternoon, Victor slams his laptop closed and snatches up his phone, ready to chuck it out the window. It’s always some benign text, never what he really wants to see, which is an email from Yuuri about Friday.

Except this time, as he jabs his lockscreen off and stares at the notification bar, that’s exactly what it is.

_Victor,_

_I hope you’ve had a good week. Please plan to arrive by seven pm again, and make your way to the playroom and be in waiting position, completely bare, by 7:05. I advise you shower very thoroughly before you arrive._

_-Yuuri_

He stares at the screen, knowing he’s not going to be able to focus the rest of the week.

Shower very thoroughly? He’s been an out, active gay man his entire post-pubescent life. He knows what that means. But already? Victor suppresses an excited little shiver.

He tries to work, but he he was right, he's too keyed up. He really doesn't want wait for Chris to get back for dinner, so runs into his room and changes into workout gear, grabs his skates, and heads to the Sky Rink, just across lower Manhattan from their place in the East Village. Public practice hours are generous and the place is wide open in spring, Victor has found, and keeping himself in shape enough to do the occasional ice show is worth the hassle of dealing with the few fans he knows he’ll run into occasionally.

It’s strangely empty when he gets there, a lone dim figure across the ice casting shadows through the observation windows when he checks in at the desk. He sees them attempt a jump and they land it, amazingly enough. It looked like a triple, but he couldn’t be sure. Victor walks toward the ice, curious about someone with that level of talent, and decides that he’s fine just leaving his shoes on the stands. No one will steal them, and he’s not changing clothes anyway, so he doesn’t even bother with the locker room. But when he pushes through the rink doors there’s not a soul there. Whoever had been practicing must have left.

So shrugs, laces up, and takes full advantage of the empty ice to skate the full bloom of his attraction, the renewed hope of his heart. This is foolish, ill-advised and reckless, but Yuuri has woken something in him, and he won’t rest until he’s figured out exactly what.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Victor can’t stop bouncing his leg in the cab on the way to Yuuri’s on Friday. It’s six thirty, and they’re caught in a flood of Manhattan traffic, but he should be there in plenty of time. His phone is functioning, he’s got it set for 6:59, and he plans to open that door ten seconds after his phone hits seven pm, come hell or high water.

“Isn’t there a better route,” he whines. “I really can’t be late.”

“Look, you do your job, I’ll do my job,” the driver says. “Just relax. You’re pretty amped up, my friend. I’d offer you a smoke if I’d not get fired.”

“No, thanks,” Victor says, and glances out of the window. He literally spent two hours getting himself ready: shower, trimming, sugar scrub, shave, aftershave, moisturized everywhere. He despaired of his feet, toes covered in bruises from his skate Wednesday. He hopes Yuuri won’t mind.

Finally, finally the cab creeps up to Yuuri’s houseand Victor swipes his card. He hits the top step at 6:55.

Okay. Five minutes. He flicks through instagram, twitter, ignores Chris’ three texts full of porn gifs and emojis.  Taps his foot against the railing. Paces. His alarm goes off. He silences it and his heart starts to beat in his throat as he watches the clock count toward 7:00.

The time flips over. Victor counts to ten, and opens the door.

The hallway is long and imposing in their turn of the century townhome, a set of ornate panel doors to his left. They’re closed, and he assumes they go toward the living space in the house. There’s a swinging door in the back he’s been through on his way to the kitchen, and a long, long staircase to the right twists its way up to the second floor.  The door to the basement is tucked around the back of the staircase, painted black, whereas every other door in the house is natural wood, and stands out for the ornate brass filigree doorknob that matches absolutely nothing else yet that Victor’s seen.

He doesn’t have time to admire, though, and hustles through the door, clatters down the stairs with his fingers already on his buttons, and has his shirt half-off as he walks through the playroom door. He inhales the soft scent of cinnamon, likely the two red candles Yuuri has burning on a shelf across the room, and lets out a sharp breath.

Okay. Shoes, socks, pants, underwear, all in a folded pile on the chair, shirt hung over the back. 7:03. He silences his phone and drops into his waiting position on the cushion in the center of the room, pleased.

He’s got a couple of minutes, so he takes the opportunity to really have a good look around. The playroom is narrow, but long, and the furniture is pretty sparse. He sees a St. Andrews cross tucked against a wall, and a frame of some kind along with it. The two cabinets at the far end, next to the bathroom door, are closed and locked. His eyes follow the cabinets up toward the ceiling, and he blinks when he sees all of the metal loops and hooks anchored in the exposed beams; he’s done enough research he knows those must be for holding ropes, or chains, or just about anything else Yuuri and Phichit came up with. A few small benches and the chaise lounge are about all there is, but the room is a warm reddish orange hue that keeps the space from feeling desolate or empty. It’s strangely comfortable.

He shifts on his cushion, trying to find the best way to settle himself, when he hears the doorknob turn. He stills immediately, head up, hands on thighs, as poised and perfect as if he were starting his routine at the last Grand Prix Final.

He doesn’t turn his head to the door, this time, and holds his breath. His ears strain to hear Yuuri’s graceful steps whisper across the dark wood floor, and his heart flutters in his chest when he feels the impression of heat behind him.

“What a beautiful sight you make, Victor,” Yuuri says quietly from behind him, and this time it’s two slender fingers drawn down his spine instead of his riding crop, and Victor closes his eyes, breathes out,settles himself until he can feel his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week.”

“Me too. I’ve had a hard time focusing this week.”

Yuuri chuckles and walks around to face Victor. His smile is breathtaking. “I’m flattered. Are you ready, then?”

Victor almost nods, struck dumb by Yuuri’s low-slung, incredibly tight black leather pants and … nothing else. Victor can see the very tops of his hipbones and the tantalizing curve of his abs, and his eyes are caught by a gleam on Yuuri’s chest.  His nipples are pierced and tiny gold barbells wink and flash in the flicker of candlelight.

“Yes, sir,” he chokes out, and Yuuri grins like a shark scenting blood in the water.

Victor quietly ogles Yuuri’s smooth back when he walks over to the cabinet, imagines pressing kisses to the dip in his spine. Yuuri, absolutely unaware of Victor’s scrutiny, pulls out a few things and once again leaves the door open so Victor can very easily see what’s inside, floggers and whips and racks of black cuffs; the gleam of metal chains.

“Stand up and give me your hand, Victor,” Yuuri says, and Victor tries to get up as gracefully as he can, keeping any hint of stiffness to himself. He holds out his hand and waits, wondering. Yuuri takes his finger and attaches what looks like a pair of tweezers with rubber tips, with a small loop that slides up the arms of the tweezer to keep it in place. There are some black beads that shimmer at the end. They squeeze, but don’t really hurt. Oh! They’re—

“Nipple clamps, yes. I thought we’d try these tonight, and maybe we’d have fun with a little game, after we get you ready. Hands down, now.”

Victor puts his hands to his sides, almost vibrating with anticipation, nipples already starting to pebble from the goosebumps that have broken out over his body. Yuuri smirks and reaches forward and splays his hand across Victor’s right pec, his nipple between Yuuri’s first two fingers. “Mmmm, you have such a beautiful body, Victor. You’ve taken such good care of it.” Yuuri closes his fingers, trapping his nipple between them and rubs tiny circles on his skin with his fingertips. The pull and tug of his skin is a lightning flash to his groin, and Victor moans low in his throat. “That’s it, lovely. Let’s hear it.” Yuuri pulls his hand away and attaches the clamp to Victor’s nipple, a steady pressure that has Victor’s arousal ramped up in a second.

“Color?” Yuuri asks.

“Green, yes,” Victor says quickly.

“Shush, don’t be in such a hurry. We’ve got time.” Yuuri attaches the other clamp and steps back to admire.  “Perfect. Such a good boy, Victor.”

Victor looks down at his chest. His nipples are getting a bit puffy from the clamps, which carry a slight weight. As he shifts around a bit to look more closely they swing ever so slightly and tug on his skin.

Yuuri reaches up and traces one with his finger, before he flicks at it, sending a spark zinging through Victor’s body. “Oh my god,” Victor breathes.

Yuuri puts both hands on Victor’s hips and sways close, before bending his head and dragging the flat of his tongue over the sensitive bud. Victor almost melts and Yuuri growls under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Victor does, immediately, and knows what’s next. But is Yuuri planning to fuck him? Like that?

“Stop thinking about it,” Yuuri says, and instead of the rope, he shows Victor a set of black leather cuffs with a clip between them. He buckles them on, and they’re just as effective a restraint as the ropes were last week. He shifts his shoulders around but the restraints don’t really bother him as much as he feared they might.

“I’m trying,” Victor says, and Yuuri hooks a hand under his elbow and pulls him over to the chaise lounge. He sits down and tugs at Victor until Victor straddles him, ass against Yuuri’s thighs, the leather smooth and warm beneath him. It’s a bit precarious, with Victor’s hands behind him like they are, but the position pushes his chest out and his hips forward, his cock on full display. He feels like he should be somewhat shy at the brazenness of it, but instead he feels proud and beautiful under Yuuri’s admiring gaze.

“I thought we’d find out just how much stamina you’ve really got,” Yuuri purrs, both hands splayed possessively over Victor’s hips. “I’m going to touch you, and I want you to hold off coming as long as you possibly can. If you make it more than ten minutes, next time I’ll get you off with my hands.” Victor sways forward just a tiny bit, until his cock comes in contact with Yuuri’s abs. Yuuri slaps him on the rear and Victor jumps. Was that wrong? But no, Yuuri is still smiling.

“Cheeky, Victor.  Don’t do it again, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Victor breathes, and shifts back a tiny bit, and shifts his weight to Yuuri’s thighs. His ass is sticking out a bit more this way, but at least he’s not completely shoving his dick in Yuuri’s face.

“Good boy.” Yuuri taps the beads on his nipples again, and Victor sucks in a breath. “If you make it fifteen, I’ll suck you off next time. More than twenty and you can suck me off.”

“What if I make it a lot more than that?” Victor asks.

“You won’t.” Yuuri slides his hands from Victor’s hips up his back, until he’s cradling Victor’s shoulderblades in his palms. His tongue flicks out to taste Victor’s nipple again, sucking, biting, tongue playing with the edges of the clamp which sends sparks of pleasure up Victor’s spine. He’s skin is running hot, fire building in his veins as Yuuri pulls him into his groin more tightly and Victor can feel his erection under his ass.

“Don’t you dare move,” Yuuri says, and slides his hands back down to Victor’s rear. He cradles his cheeks in his hands a moment, then pulls back and gives one a soft, open-handed swat. The impact is dull and Victor doesn’t quite get the appeal, but after a couple more smacks he can feel the skin get warm, and as Yuuri continues each impact intensifies, building on the one before. Victor gasps after a few — five, ten, who knows?—and Yuuri rubs circles over the stinging flesh. Victor bends forward and rests his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. He’s so aroused by Yuuri’s hands on him, by the feel of his cock under Victor’s body, that he’s having a hard time focusing. “Color?” Yuuri murmurs into Victor’s collarbone.

“Ah. Green.”

“You sound uncertain,” Yuuri says, and kisses the base of Victor’s throat, sweet nibbling kisses and the bare edge of teeth.

Victor swallows. “I’m not. Sir. I’m sure.”

“Then lay over my lap for me, on your knees and head on the seat.”

Victor pauses. He won’t be able to hold himself up at all, with his hands bound. His weight will be on his knees, and the side of his head.

“Now, Victor,” Yuuri snaps.

“I’m sorry,” Victor says, then arranges himself so he’s lyingwith stomach and chest over Yuuri’s thighs, folded on his knees and the side of his face resting on the soft leather. He can see Yuuri’s hip and the side of his face, right arm now settled across Victor’s back. Yuuri uses the other to tug Victor’s thighs apart, leaving him spread open and vulnerable.

“You’re so pretty,” Yuuri says, and drags a fingernail over Victor’s ass, the sensation sharp and on the edge of unpleasantly painful, “When you do what I tell you.” Yuuri spanks him again, and then drags a finger down over his balls, down his cock. t feels so good it almost aches, the soft burn of pleasure and sharp hit of pain mingling together and Victor wasn’t sure he could get harder but he is, cock swaying between his legs.

The fingers of Yuuri’s right hand slip under the cuffs on his wrists for a moment, then he moves them to Victor’s mouth. “Suck,” he says, and pushes his first two fingers between Victor’s lips. He allows the intrusion willingly, grateful to have something else to think about rather than being spanked again, and tries his best to make it feel good from his awkward angle on the sofa.

“Yes, show me how you’d suck me if I let you,” Yuuri murmurs, and his other hand traces patterns on Victor’s burning skin. “How you’d take it if I fucked your mouth like this.” The fingers on Victor’s ass slip down to rub at his perineum, and Victor chokes a moan around Yuuri’s fingers. It’s like he’s in a strange sort of threesome: Yuuri’s hands on either end of him, and his own locked tight behind his back. His shoulders are beginning to ache, slightly, and he shifts, which makes the clamps twitch and Victor gives a full body shudder.  Yuuri pulls his fingers back. “Color?”

“Green,” he whispers, spit gathering at the corner of his mouth and spilling over onto the leather seat.

Yuuri pushes his fingers back inside and Victor slips his tongue around them, sucks deep, and Yuuri’s other hand, the one on his ass, presses a thumb against Victor’s hole. Victor squeaks.

“Pretty,” Yuuri whispers again, and rubs soft circles against his hole, not dipping inside, not really pushing, just massaging. It might be the most intimate touch Victor’s ever received, and he’s had guys eat his ass for breakfast. His orgasm is starting to build, and Yuuri hasn’t even touched his dick. He tries to keep sucking on Yuuri’s fingers but his tongue is getting tired, and he’s losing focus. Yuuri’s hands have him balanced on the knife edge of pleasure, and it becomes almost unbearable when Yuuri’s hand dips down and fully takes his dick in hand and strokes.

“Mmmph,” he whimpers, and sucks in a deep breath, trying to think of something, anything, other than Yuuri’s long fingers squeezing and pulling at him, massaging his balls.

Yuuri just hums, the sound dark and satisfied.  “You’re doing really well, sweetheart,” he says, and Victor arches and strains against Yuuri’s thumb on his hole, the touch so delicate Victor wonders if he’s feeling each and every ridge and furl of the skin there. “I’m so proud ofhow long you’ve lasted.”

Victor twitches, knees slipping on the leather, drool leaking out of his mouth where he’s utterly failed at continuing to suck Yuuri’s fingers and they rest against his tongue. His entire being is focused on the point of contact of Yuuri’s fingers on his ass, the occasional slap that warms his skin and jolts sensation through his perineum when Yuuri’s strokes are off-center.

“Commph,” he says, around Yuuri’s slack fingers.

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, doesn’t change the rhythm of his hand that’s again on Victor’s cock. He just strokes until Victor’s brain scatters into white noise and he comes hard over Yuuri’s hand, mouth open on a silent scream, Yuuri’s fingers still resting in his mouth.

“Good boy,” Yuuri says, and pulls his fingers from Victor’s mouth and unsnaps the clip that holds his wrists together. Victor’s arms flop almost uselessly to his sides and Yuuri wraps his arms around him with surprising strength and guides him down to the lounge, arranges him on his back as he’s still twitching with aftershocks.  He slips the nipple clamps off, and as the blood starts to flow, Victor shudders even harder, everything almost too much: too sensitive, too much pleasure, too much everything.

“Look at you,” Yuuri says, and climbs over Victor’s body and kneels across him again, but this time across his hips, Victor’s spent cock smearing come all over the front of Yuuri’s pants. Yuuri unbuttons and unzips and parts the front, and Victor’s brain snaps back online because Yuuri isn’t wearing any underwear. There’s a sharp vee of skin right between the flies, sparse hair trailing down from his stomach to a neatly trimmed line just above his groin. Yuuri lifts his cock out and Victor’s mouth goes dry. He can finally see what he’s getting without an oversized shirt in the way. It’s _big_ , fat and red and uncut, not exactly long but certainly thick.  

Victor licks his lips.

“You made it twenty one minutes, so next time you get a nice little reward. But I think you’ve been so good you deserve a preview, don’t you?”

Victor nods, eyes never leaving Yuuri’s cock. “Please, Yuuri.”

“That’s ‘please, sir,’ Victor. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Sir. Please. I’d like that.”

“Good.” Yuuri leans over and pumps lube into his hand from the bottle on the table next to the lounge and slides it, slick, down his shaft.  “Oh, that feels amazing,” he sighs. “Watching you under my hands, feeling your body respond to me. You were starting to open up to me, did you even realize that?”

Victor flushes and shakes his head, enraptured with the way Yuuri’s eyelashes flutter againsthis cheeks, how he bites his bottom lip every so often as he strokes with long, luxurious pulls that end with a twist over the head.

“You were. I’d touch your hole and it would twitch and flex, soften as I rubbed it.  Your cock was growing harder in my hand as I touched you.” Yuuri closes his eyes and shuffles forward, on his knees. “Open your mouth, Victor,” he demands. Victor obeys, but gathers enough strength to lift his arms and clamp his hands over Yuuri’s thighs, fingers digging into the leather. He’s ready, he knows what’s next, and he wants it, wants everything Yuuri can give him.

Yuuri huffs out rhythmic breaths as he strokes himself, and he leans forward to brace his hand on Victor’s chest, fingers around one of his nipples. They’re swollen and stiff and incredibly sensitive and Victor’s eyelids flutter on a gasp.  “Watch, Victor. Don’t take your eyes off of me.”  As if Victor could look away from this, could ever _stop_ looking.

“I won’t,” Victor says, overwhelmed. “I promise I won’t.”  He opens his mouth again, his breathing almost as rough as Yuuri’s, and waits.

It’s only a few more moments before Yuuri throws his head back and his orgasm overtakes him, his come striping Victor’s chest, hitting his chin, and then, as Yuuri pulls himself together, landing on his tongue when Yuuri leans forward enough that his cock touches Victor’s bottom lip.

“You can have more,” Yuuri rasps. “Taste it.”

Victor sticks his tongue out and Yuuri lays his cock on the flat of it, the last drops of come slick on Victor’s lips. He laps at the head and swallows, before opening his mouth again to reach forward and take another taste. Yuuri, however, leans back and sits on Victor’s legs, trying to catch his breath.

Victor leans up on his elbows and stares at him, utterly blown away. The playroom is silent save the sound of their heavy breathing, and Victor can’t stop staring at Yuuri’s chest and the gold barbells through his nipples, his red and softening cock.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri says, and touches Victor’s stomach lightly. His ass is has settled against Victor’s groin, and Victor nestles into the feel of his leather-covered ass against his dick.

“That was unbelievable,” he finally says, and flops back against the curved head of the lounge. “I think my nipples are going to fall off, though,” he says, and winces. They really are awfully puffy and sore, but the rest of him feels _magnificent._ He rolls his tongue around his mouth, chasing the taste of Yuuri from his lips, content, if a bit worn out.

Yuuri climbs off of him, then, and puts a gentle hand on Victor’s cheek. “Stay here,” he says. “I need to get something ready and I’ll be right back for you. Are you okay if I do that?”

Victor nods. He’s not even sure he can move, but sure. He might just fall asleep here. Victor closes his eyes.

He might have actually dozed for a moment, because when next he’s aware, Yuuri is helping him rise from the lounge and leading him toward the back of the playroom and into the bathroom he saw last week. When he steps inside he’s shocked.

A full modern bath, all white subway tiles, cork flooring and chrome fixtures. There’s a very large whirlpool tub on one side, which is being filled with steaming water, and a glass-enclosed shower on the other with two large rainfall showerheads. He doesn’t see a toilet but there’s another door that could be where it is, and a double sink with a large mirror where he can see himself, arm slung over Yuuri’s shoulder and slowly walking toward the bath.

“Sit on the side, don’t try to climb in,” Yuuri instructs, and Victor does, then turns around and slips into the warm, soothing water but when his nipples hit the heat he hisses discomfort. Yuuri pulls up a stool to sit down next to the tub and tilts Victor’s head back against the small bath pillow and examines his chest closely.

“They’re sensitive and puffy, but you’ll be fine. We’ll put some aquaphor on and I’ll give you a couple of pads to put over them to keep the rubbing to a minimum.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” Yuuri asks, and passes a soft hand through Victor’s hair.

“Worn out,” he says. “But good. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You did so well, Victor. Better than I could have expected. Did you like it?”

Victor sinks further into the water and washes the come off of his chin. Yuuri watches him with bright eyes, face ever so slightly pink. His hair is starting to fall from the slicked back style he has it in, and it softens his face considerably.

“I loved it,” Victor says carefully. “I was a little worried about how I would be able to breathe when I was over your lap because I thought most of my weight would be on my chest, but once I got there I realized that was why I was on my knees, right?”

Yuuri nods, and pulls down a clean washcloth and pours some bath gel on it. It smells soft and warm, like cedar. Victor tilts his chin up when Yuuri taps him, and Yuuri carefully cleans his face, his neck, his chest. It’s soothing and delicate, and Victor luxuriates in being taken care of like this.

“I’ll never put you in a position I don’t think you can breathe in. It’s one of your hard limits, and I won’t cross that line. But if you ever panic, or feel like you can’t breathe anyway, safeword and we’ll break the scene.  Thank you for trusting me enough to do what I told you, and being honest with me.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” Victor says, as Yuuri washes his arms. “I want to do well at this. It’s the most incredible experience I’ve ever had.”

Yuuri rinses Victor’s arms and shoulders and starts work on his feet. He’s smiling gently, focused on Victor’s body. The silence is comfortable, relaxing. Victor dozes.

“It’s time to get out,” Yuuri croons in his ear. “You’re going to drown if I leave you there.”

Victor groans. “Just leave me here to die. It’ll be worth it.”

“Nope,” Yuuri says, and reaches between Victor’s feet and pops the drain open. Victor pouts. He cracks his eyes open and sees Yuuri is in a pair of gym shorts now, hair damp and soft. How long had he been asleep? “When did that happen?” Victor says, tugging on Yuuri’s shorts.

“I jumped in the shower while you were out. I could at least see you from in there. It only took me a few minutes.”

Victor groans when he looks over at the large, very open, glass-enclosed shower. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

“You snooze, you lose,” Yuuri chirps, and Victor groans again.

“That was awful. Really and truly terrible. Possibly the worst English joke I’ve ever heard.”

“Whatever, Russians probably don’t even know how to make jokes,” Yuuri says, and Victor puts a hand over his heart.

“I’m wounded. How dare you insult the country of my birth? Besides, in Russia, jokes make _you_.”

Yuuri stares at him, mouth open. “No. No they don’t. That was even worse than mine, and I didn’t know that was possible.”

Victor laughs, delighted, then pulls up short. “I know my accent is still pretty heavy, but how did you know I was from Russia? I could be Ukrainian, or Lithuanian.”

Yuuri blushes and hands him a towel. “Ah. Well. You’re not as anonymous as you think you might be,” he says carefully, as Victor dries himself. “You’re an Olympian, a multiple gold medalist. I’ve seen you before, on TV. And in some magazines.”

Victor smiles. “I know. I just wondered if _you_ did.”

“Well, I do, so tone your ego down, mister gold medalist.” Yuuri snatches the towel from his hands and flicks him on one the rear with it. “I’m in charge here.”

Victor yelps and rubs his butt. “Hey! Playtime is over!”

Yuuri sobers immediately. “So it is.” He looks very serious, and Victor can’t help himself. He feels light and buoyant and _happy_. He dives forward and grabs Yuuri around the waist and hefts him over his shoulder. Yuuri yelps and laughs and tries to wiggle his way free. “Nope,” Victor says, and clamps his arm around Yuuri’s legs, carries him back into the playroom and over to the stool where his clothes are.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Yuuri says, and smacks Victor on the butt again. Victor just laughs and puts him down. “You’re a big strong man who can carry me around if you want. But just wait. I’ll have the last laugh when you’re suspended from the ceiling in here.”

“Oooh, promise?” Victor says, and Yuuri rolls his eyes and helps Victor into his underwear and pants.

He slips Victor’s shirt on and buttons it, then straightens his hair before cupping his cheek softly, thumb on Victor’s bottom lip. Victor can feel the warmth of his touch all the way to his toes.

“I guarantee it,” he says.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I see when I see Yuuri and Phichit's playroom lounge: https://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/richmond.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/d/1a/d1adf8d9-27c0-5b3d-a005-6ece2342adc5/50de88fe4f74b.image.jpg
> 
> And, in case you don't know, these are the nipple clamps Yuuri has for Victor, which are good for a beginner. http://www.dearlady.us/Product/p/V006357N/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI75LUh47V1QIVwl6GCh0yEg29EAkYBSABEgJGUfD_BwE&ad=117599475308


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, Victor. You deliberately broke one of the rules I set for tonight.” Yuuri walks to the cabinet and retrieves his riding crop, and walks back over to the lounge. Victor watches him carefully.
> 
> “You’ll get five strokes for your disobedience,” Yuuri says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a lot of love and gratitude to Liz, my beta extraordinaire, and A.N.D., my technical consultant and continuity watcher.
> 
> Note: This chapter discusses erotic asphyxiation. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. I'm serious. People die from doing this all the time. Yuuri's fear of it is well founded.

Yuuri stands in front of the full length cheval mirror in his room and slowly peels his gym shorts down his hips. His knuckles bump the dark purple, angry-looking bruise that still spills across his skin, a mottled and ugly testament to the triple lutz he utterly failed on Wednesday, and he winces.

He’d made the triple axel, though.

Meeting Victor, being with him in person, has given Yuuri the sort of joy and verve in skating he hasn’t felt in years, even though he’d kept up with it, kept himself in shape and sharp as a knife because he couldn’t not, after all the hours and blood and sweat he’d poured into it. 

But that bruise, though. It’s a waving red flag to anyone who had any experience in skating, advertising what it was from, and Victor was certainly wouldn’t have missed it, especially since the bruises on his feet belied his own practice. Fortunately Yuuri had avoided most of that sort of damage, but he pulled on his tightest leather pants as an excuse to keep himself dressed during his session with Victor, and swore to himself nothing more complicated than a double toe loop from here on out, if that. 

Yuuri carefully rubs arnica along the bruise with gentle fingers and climbs into bed.  He tries to focus on Instagram, trying to catch up with people’s lives, when his mind drifts back to Victor.

He was sweet and obedient, sexy and inquisitive. Yuuri shudders internally at the phantom sensation of Victor’s ass under his fingertips, the silky soft skin of his cock,  the memory of his face with Yuuri’s come shining on his lips.

Fuck. He’s starting to get hard again.  

But afterward, in the bath. He was so funny, and so playful. He’d been asking questions about Yuuri’s life, wanting to know about him. Like he actually  _ likes _ Yuuri, not just as a Dom or as a teacher, but as a person. Is that even possible? 

Is it important? He’s not known other people who’ve subbed for him that well before. 

_ You know it is, _ he thinks, as he jerks off to the echo of Victor’s “Oooh, promise?” purred in his ear.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Phichit catches up to him next while he’s on the sofa, shoveling down his allowed Saturday bowl of cocoa puffs and watching a recorded episode of BattleBots. He drops next to Yuuri on the sofa and falls over onto his side with a groan. 

“Get your feet away from my cereal,” Yuuri mumbles around a bite. “I don’t care you’re hungover. That’s your own fault.”

“Bleah. I’m never drinking with Elena and Jamie ever, ever again,” he says. “I hate myself.” 

Yuuri snorts and takes another bite. He waits. It’ll happen, any time now. May as well get it over with.

“Soooooo,” Phichit starts.

“He was really great,” Yuuri says. “Perfect. Again.”

Phichit tilts his head. “Perfect? Like, not a single mistake? That’s unusual. You guys must be really on the same wavelength.”

Yuuri puts his bowl down, the cereal sitting heavy on his stomach. “Well, yeah. I think so. He’s into nipple clamps, so far. Spanking. He’s got good stamina and likes a challenge. I’ve not pushed any really hard stuff.”

“Is it on his list?”

Yuuri thinks. “Yeah, to a point. He’s got floggers on his yes list. Caning is a soft limit. I think he could really like impact play. I’m not fond of really taking a paddle to him quite yet. I’m not ready to push him to that extent. Even if he screws up, it’ll be light.”

Phichit nods his head quickly. “Of course. Maybe he’d be ready for flogging. I mean, don’t just give him all your faves because they’re  _ yours _ , you know. Don’t forget figuring out what  _ he _ likes.”

“I’m not!” Yuuri flips around on the sofa so he can look Phichit in the face. “I mean, I’m not trying to, anyway. I got out the clamps because he touched himself first. I’m trying to watch him.” Yuuri feels a sick panic in his stomach. He’s doing what he thinks Victor would like, isn’t he? He’s tailoring their play to keep Victor interested and happy while he’s learning. 

_ But you’ve taken your own pleasure too _ , his mind whispers. Well, of course he has. It’s a give and take relationship. He does this for his own satisfaction. It’s not totally altruistic. 

“Look, Yuuri, I’m not trying to freak you out. I just worry about you getting in too deep with him. But I also know how good you are at this. I’m sorry I brought it up.” Phichit rubs his hand over his neck and looks really guilty. “I mean, I’ve seen you do things for people I couldn’t imagine. I know you’ll be good to Victor, too.  Just try a few things out on him and see what he thinks.”

Yuuri nods and turns back to the TV, thoughts in a whirl. He’s ready to ramp it up a bit, but is Victor?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

_ 9:36 AM  _

_ Monday, June 16 _

 

_ Hi, Yuuri! It’s Victor. Is it okay if we text? _

 

Yuuri looks at his phone. He’s never really communicated outside of a scene with anyone quite like this, save email and messages on FetLife.  But he did tell Victor to let him know if he had any questions, so…

_ 9:40 AM _

_ Sure. What’s up? _

_ 9:41 AM - Victor _

_ I’m wondering, what would draw a person into some of the heavier stuff? Like, whips, or knives? Or those suits where they can’t really breathe? _

_ 9:43 AM _

_ It depends on the person. Some people like the sensation. Bearing pain can help them focus, and dive deeper into subspace. Like, if you’re hurt while you’re doing something, sometimes you zone out because you’re so focused. The pain retreats. _

_ 9:44 AM _

_ As for not breathing, there can be many reasons, but the thrill of giving that power – it feels like life and death, and requires immense trust. I don’t do it very often because frankly I don’t feel comfortable holding that type of power. But I have done it. _

_ 9:45 AM - Victor _

_ Wow. What did you do? _

_ 9:50 AM _

_ The last time was erotic asphyxiation. You cover the mouth and nose to restrict airflow during sex. Then release at about the moment of orgasm. The rush is intense. Or so I’m told. _

_ 9:51 AM - Victor _

_ I don’t know what sounds hotter, the sex or you standing over someone holding them like that. _

_ 9:58 AM - Victor _

_ Yuuri? _

_ 10:02 AM _

_ Sorry, got called away. It’s a different sort of thing for me, but I’ve had partners who like it, so I’ve tried it a few times. It feels too dangerous for me to do, really. _

_ 10:03 AM _

_ Would you be interested? You said no breathplay. _

_ 10:04 AM - Victor _

_ No, not that, but. _

_ I want to be totally helpless for you.  _

Yuuri swallows hard and pushes away from his desk. There’s no way he can focus on testing this app right now, not when Victor is asking him for exactly what Yuuri’s been longing for: total control without hesitation.

_ 10:06 AM _

_ If you don’t have a plug, get one. Wear it Friday. Be ready, nude, at 7:05. You can touch yourself this week, but don’t come until I give you permission. Do you understand? _

_ 10:08 AM - Victor _

_ Yes, sir. ;) _

Yuuri throws himself out of his chair and onto his bed in a full-body wriggle of excitement.  Then he realizes it’s only Monday. 

This is going to be the longest week  _ ever _ .

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Yuuri takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. He’s pacing, now, back and forth in front of the door to the playroom, the wood floor smooth and cool against his bare feet. He’s as ready for tonight as he’ll ever be, he knows that: his hair is slicked back away from his face, he’s wearing his favorite dark wash distressed jeans. He even carefully outlined his eyes and added a dab of glitter to the outside edge. He’s decided to forego a shirt as he’s positive Victor likes his piercings. The playroom is set and ready, everything is clean and organized and...

He still can’t open the door. 

“ _ You’re being ridiculous _ ,” he hisses to himself,  _ “He wants more, so give it to him already.” _

Yuuri throws open the door with a bit more force than he intends. Victor, to his credit, doesn’t even move, just stays kneeling with the same calm, cool poise he’s known for on the ice.  Yuuri’s mouth goes dry at the sight of him, and when he walks over to trace his fingertips from Victor’s nape to his tailbone, his heart thuds in his chest at the sight of the base of a clear glass plug peeking out from between his cheeks.

“You’re so good for me, Victor,” he purrs into Victor’s ear, compliance with this simple request giving him confidence and helping him find his center. “Did you have a good week?”

Victor shivers a bit as Yuuri slides the backs of his fingers down his cheek. “Yes, sir. It was very…long, though,” he adds wryly, and Yuuri laughs.

“Did you have a difficult time complying with my instructions?”

“Yes. I was close a number of times, but I didn’t come.” Victor says this with a lift of his chin, and Yuuri believes him. He  _ is _ proud, he’s happy to do well. That convinces him, then, to go ahead and move forward with the plan for the evening.

“I’m so, so proud of you, beautiful.” Yuuri steps in front of him and rewards him with a kiss on the forehead. “Are you ready for things to get a bit more intense tonight? Do you still want that?”

“Yes.” Victor’s eyes are closed, his face the picture of bliss. 

At the sight of him, so beautifully open and trusting, Yuuri struggles to hold on to his traitorous heart, ready to float away and land right in Victor’s hands. He could crush it with the tiniest flick of his fingers, damage it beyond repair, and as Yuuri watches those big blue eyes blink up at him with affection and expectation, he resolves to be everything Victor needs him to be and nothing else.

“Go lay down across that bench, then, on your stomach. Let your body lie along the length of it, legs on each side.” Yuuri points to the long, wooden bench that will hold all of Victor’s weight off of his knees, yet leave him still open, ass in the air. Victor rises and walks over to the bench and smirks, just slightly, as he slowly lifts a leg over to straddle the bench, the glass base of his plug plainly visible. 

“Naughty,” Yuuri says, and smacks him on the ass on his way to the cabinet. Victor yelps surprise, then giggles. “Do you like how it feels?”

“Yes, sir,” Victor says. “It’s not as big as some I’ve had, but,” he settles himself along the bench, chin resting on his folded hands, “I do like to work for it a little bit.”

Yuuri swallows quickly and pulls the suede flogger from the rack and runs his fingers through the tails. “Is that right?” he says, and hopes Victor didn’t see the slight shudder that ran down his spine. He admires Victor’s body along the bench as he walks back over, the weight of the flogger in his hands making him itchy to swing it. But before that can happen, he crouches down, level with Victor’s eyes.

“This is my favorite, Victor,” he says carefully, and relishes Victor’s smile. “It’s not intended to be very painful, but it is very intense. It will make you feel exactly how I want you to feel.  Would you like me to use it?”

Victor breathes out, one long, shuddering exhale. “Yes, please. Sir.”

“Good.” Yuuri straightens and stands behind him, and flips the flogger in a figure eight, a quick warmup for his wrists. The weight feels balanced and light, so he gathers the fall in his opposite hand and, with a quick prayer of gratitude to the stars that aligned to let him be here in this moment, lets it drop right into the fleshy, pert right cheek of Victor Nikiforov’s ass.

Victor sucks in a quick breath of surprise, and his back arches as he lifts his head off of his hands, but otherwise he doesn’t seem distressed or upset by the sensation. It might take him a bit more warmup to decide how he feels. 

“Color?” Yuuri asks, and gathers up the fall again.

“Green. Sir.”

Yuuri drops the flogger again in the same place, letting gravity do most of the work for him and not adding much momentum to the blow. Victor twitches this time and twists to look over his shoulder to watch.

“See how pretty your skin is?” Yuuri asks, and shifts to the left cheek before moving up over his back. The skin pinks up so beautifully, going from alabaster white to flushed rose after very few strikes. Victor breathes out low, rumbling groans every time the flogger lands, each utterance hitting Yuuri right below the belt in the best way. The room is so quiet otherwise, but for the sound of the flogger striking Victor’s back again and again and sliding through Yuuri’s hands as he readies it for another, his breathing a counterpoint to the motions of his arms. His vision is completely focused on Victor’s body, the toss of his hair as he takes another soft blow, the twitch of his ass around the plug.  As Yuuri steps back to give him a small reprieve, Victor lifts his upper body to lean on his elbows, his forehead dropped to his clasped hands, cheeks pink, back heaving.

Yuuri can see sweat starting to form at the nape of his neck. He wants to lick it off.

“You’re doing well, my beautiful boy,” Yuuri hums, and runs his hand possessively over Victor’s rear before tapping the plug lightly.

“Oh,” Victor says, then drops his head back down to his hands. “I’m…this is really. I…” he trails off, apparently unable to finish his thought. Yuuri’s inner self purrs satisfaction, and he practically struts around the bench until he’s right in front of Victor’s face. 

“Look at me, lovely,” he says, and Victor lifts wide, lust-drunk eyes to Yuuri’s face. “You’ve been such a good boy and it’s time for your reward, now.  Would you like that?”  Victor nods, and Yuuri lets it pass for now, accepting the intensity of a first flogging might leave him just a bit too mind-blown for a proper response. 

Yuuri helps him up from the bench and directs him to kneel at the end of the lounge. Yuuri strips his pants off in one fluid motion before climbing up in front of him and leaning back on his elbows, arranging himself so Victor is now kneeling between his thighs. They’re both hard, Victor wet and leaking and almost vibrating with arousal, and Yuuri feels a surge of want so strong he can feel his cock flex with it.

“Suck me,” he demands. “Open that lovely mouth and let me fuck it. Make me come.” 

Victor whimpers and runs his hands up Yuuri’s thighs, his eyes intent on Yuuri’s cock. “What am I allowed to do to you?” he asks, and leans down to give a soft kitten lick to the head. Yuuri breathes in quickly through his nose, trying to remind himself that control is as critical now for him as it is for Victor.

“Anything. Just no touching yourself. You only come when I say. Understood?”

Victor nods quickly and bends back to Yuuri’s cock, dragging his lips up the shaft, licking around the head and then taking him down in one swift move.  Yuuri gasps at the wet heat of his mouth, the suction as he draws back and the slide of his lips down the sensitive skin. Victor is good at this, incredibly so, and Yuuri uses the grip on his hair to guide Victor’s mouth back down until he can feel his cock pushed toward the back of his throat, testing to see how good he really is. 

“Breathe and swallow,” Yuuri murmurs, one hand curled around the back of Victor’s skull. He can feel Victor trying to swallow around the head of his cock, and when Victor gags, Yuuri lets go. Victor pulls off with a gasp.  “Good job, sweetheart. Can you try again?”

Victor nods. “Yes, sir,” he rasps, and dives back in. He sucks Yuuri’s cock all the way down, his nose almost buried in the small thatch of Yuuri’s pubic hair. Yuuri thrusts just slightly, enough to feel the head of his cock press into the back of Victor’s throat for a heart-stopping moment before Victor is pulling back off, coughing. That’s enough of that, for now, but Yuuri adds a bit of training to his mental to-do list.

“So lovely,” Yuuri says, and closes his eyes and tilts his head back, the thrum of arousal burning through him. He can feel Victor shift position slightly and his arm bumps Yuuri’s thigh, and he bends back down to suckle lightly at the head of Yuuri’s cock.  He hitches a quick gasp against Yuuri’s skin, and Yuuri tenses and opens his eyes.

To see Victor quickly move his hand back to a position next to Yuuri’s thigh.

“Were you just touching yourself?” Yuuri asks, the warning clear in his voice. 

Victor doesn’t say anything, just continues to kiss and lick at Yuuri’s cock, and adds deft fingers on Yuuri’s balls to the sensation. 

Yuuri pauses. He knows Victor was just touching himself, against explicit instructions. He’s going to have to do something about it. 

“Victor,” he snaps, and grabs Victor by the chin to lift him off of Yuuri’s cock. “I asked you a question.”

Victor stares at him, panic clear in his eyes. “Um. Yes. Sir. I’m so sorry, sir, I was just so turned on, and sucking you felt so good, and I thought…”

Yuuri groans internally. Fucking hell, he’s going to have to punish him now, and he really,  _ really _ doesn’t want to.  He scoots back, away from Victor’s hands, and stands. 

“I told you not to touch yourself, didn’t I?” he says.

Victor is still kneeling, eyes wide and shoulders tense. “Yes. I’m sorry. Can we please keep going? I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“No, Victor. You deliberately broke one of the rules I set for tonight.” Yuuri walks to the cabinet and retrieves his riding crop, and walks back over to the lounge. Victor watches him carefully. 

“You’ll get five strokes for your disobedience,” Yuuri says. “Come and lay over my lap. Now.”  Yuuri sits down and Victor, after a moment’s hesitation, arranges himself over Yuuri’s lap. “Color?” Yuuri asks, because this isn’t at all what Victor expected, he’s sure, and he needs to know everything is still okay.

“Green,” Victor whispers, and Yuuri can feel him trembling. He raises the crop and brings it down in a half-powered snap against Victor’s backside, careful that the leather tongue strikes only the fleshy part of Victor’s ass, and doesn’t hit the plug at all. Victor jumps under his hands and hisses.

“How many was that?” Yuuri asks him.

“One.”

“One what?”

“One, sir,” Victor grits out. 

“Count the rest, then,” Yuuri says, and slowly, carefully, gives him four more, Victor gasping out the count after each one.  Each crack of the crop across his skin echoes in Yuuri’s ears, and he watches the skin turn red. After three, Victor whimpers audibly, but still calls green when Yuuri asks.  After five, Yuuri drops the crop and helps Victor stand up. To his astonishment, there are tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes.

“You did well, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and brings Victor’s head to his shoulder, hugging him and rubbing the back of his head. “I know you didn’t mean to disappoint me. It’s okay. You’ll do so much better next time.”

Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist and slides to his knees. He buries his face against Yuuri’s stomach, tears hot against Yuuri’s skin. “I’m so sorry, sir,” he chatters out. “I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri pauses, all residual arousal draining from him in an instant. Victor sounds like he’s in real, significant distress. Has he hit subdrop already? Was the punishment too much after all? Regardless, all play is over for tonight. Yuuri needs to talk to him.

“Let’s get you into the bath, okay?” he says, and guides Victor from the floor and into the bathroom. He turns on the water and leads Victor to sit on the little stool until the bath is ready. Victor looks at the floor, sniffling occasionally, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Yuuri sends him off to the toilet room so he can remove the plug and have a little privacy, and when he comes back out Yuuri turns off the water.

“Come on, in with you,” Yuuri says quietly, and helps Victor to settle in. He’s added some bath oil to the warm water, but Victor still flinches when his ass hits the surface of the bath.

“Take it easy, okay? I didn’t leave any bruises or anything, I promise. It’s just tender, after flogging, too. Let’s soak your muscles and then I’ll rub you down.” Yuuri goes to pass his hand through Victor’s hair, but Victor turns his face away and looks at the wall. Yuuri’s heart drops to his stomach as he pulls his hand back.

“Victor, please talk to me. I know this was your first time with something like this, but I need to know how you feel. If you’re that upset then something isn’t working right. I would have stopped immediately if I had known.”

Victor sighs. “No, it’s not that. I just didn’t mean to mess up, and I didn’t want to upset you and ruin the night. You’re doing so much for me, teaching me, and I didn’t take what you said as seriously as I should have, I guess.”

Oh. Oh dear. “I told you what would happen, and I asked you if you were okay to continue. Why did you say it was okay if it wasn’t?”

Victor swirls his hands through the water, not looking at Yuuri at all. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just thought you’d be mad, maybe. Or make me leave. I’ve read some Doms get rid of subs for safewording. I thought I could handle it. I guess not. ”

“Victor, give me your hand please,” Yuuri says, and Victor does, with a cautious glance from under his eyelashes. Yuuri threads their fingers together, Victor’s warm and wet from the bath. He wraps his other hand around their fingers and holds it there.

“I will never, ever be mad at you for asking me to slow down, or safewording. Those things are there to protect you, physically and emotionally. If you’re not feeling up to something, or even just want me to explain it better, I need to know that, and I will always abide by your rules in this way.” Victor nods and Yuuri leans forward so he can rest his elbows on the side of the bath, as close as he can get to Victor without climbing in with him. “Your submission is a gift to me, and it’s something I value. Punishment isn’t easy but it teaches discipline, which in turn helps you find the release you need.  It’s part of what we do, and many people find it arousing. I expect obedience and I will have it, but not at the expense of your wellbeing. It’s part of my job to take care of you.”

Victor’s lips twist in an unhappy pout, and Yuuri presses their hands against his cheek. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up, okay? I’m still holding a coupon for a reward you’re owed, you know.”

That, at least, gets a smile out of him as he clambers over the side of the tub and Yuuri dries him off. He smooths some aloe over the reddened skin of his back and rear and leads him out to the playroom where Yuuri wraps him up in a soft blanket and brings him to sit carefully between Yuuri’s knees on the sofa, leaning back against Yuuri’s chest.  He’s still not speaking much, and Yuuri’s worried he’s crashing too hard. 

“Tell me how you’re feeling, please,” Yuuri whispers. “I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

“I’m just mad at myself, that’s all,” Victor says, and shifts until he’s turned on his hip, his cheek against Yuuri’s chest. “I know I can be perfect. It’s my own fault this happened.”

Yuuri rubs his fingertips across the nape of Victor’s neck. “Maybe a little bit. But I’ll back off next time, maybe give you only one thing new to focus on.”

“Okay,” Victor says, and Yuuri can hear the slightest bit of reluctance tint his voice. Yuuri can feel a strange sort of fear twist its way into his gut. 

What if he pushed him too far?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yuuri can’t sleep that night, nor the next. He starts and erases half a dozen texts to Victor, all centered around the one question he wants to ask: “Are you okay?” and avoiding the one he is terrified to know the answer to: “Will you come back?” But by Sunday afternoon his concern for Victor’s wellbeing overrides any other fears and he texts him a simple:

_ “You doing ok? I’m a little worried.” _

Because he is. Victor left Friday night after giving Yuuri a long hug, one that felt too much like a permanent farewell, and Yuuri has paced the floors ever since, ignoring Phichit’s concerned looks. He knows he shouldn’t have pushed someone so raw, so new, but Victor had wanted it, hadn’t he? Had craved a fuller experience. He’d done so well, too, right up until the moment he’d been so aroused that he’d broken and touched himself against Yuuri’s instructions.

Maybe that was the problem, then. He’d been on an endorphin high from the flogging, and holding a plug, and sucking Yuuri off, which seemed to get him off even more. He hadn’t come all week. Maybe Yuuri had just overloaded his senses and he didn’t have any resistance built against that cascade of overlapping sensations. 

Yuuri should have known better. And of course Phichit had warned him Victor could likely take a whole lot of pain in service of something he wanted, whether he liked it or not. In this case, not disappointing Yuuri.

Yuuri attacks the floor in the playroom with the mop again. He’s had subs safeword out of intense scenes; he’s had subs completely disobey him because they loved being punished. Chris likes to rebel just to see what Yuuri would do to him this time, because none of it made much of an actual impact on his behavior. A few have broken the rules and accepted their punishment and even sort of got off on handing him that power. But none of them have been quite as significantly upset about disappointing Yuuri as Victor has.

His phone chimes from across the room, and Yuuri dives for it, flopping onto the lounge and reading Victor’s reply.

_ 1:43pm - Victor _

_ I don’t know. I still feel bad. _

Oh  _ shit _ .

_ 1:44pm _

_ Meet me at Central Park, at Strawberry Fields. We need to talk. How fast can you be there? _

 

_ 1:45pm - Victor _

_ 20min. I will leave now. _

Yuuri abandons the mop and runs upstairs, throws on his shoes and grabs his wallet and keys, and catches a cab which disgorges him on the west side of the Park in the late afternoon sunshine. He sprints across the park as quickly as he can and when he arrives, he’s sweaty and gross and probably stinking of cleaning supplies and sweat, but he doesn’t care, because Victor is there, staring at the small stone set in the center of the walk that simply says “Imagine.”

“Victor,” Yuuri pants. “Hi.”

Victor turns, and oh, he looks so beautiful, the sun shining off of his hair and kissing the tops of his shoulders. His smile is soft, but there’s a bit of sadness around his eyes.

“Hi,” he says. “Are you okay? You look a bit out of breath.”

“Yeah, I, uh. I ran, part of the way. Sorry.” Yuuri gulps down some air and motions Victor to a bench. He needs to get this over with. Victor’s mental health is the main concern now, not whatever stupid fear he has about Victor ending their arrangement. They sit down, watching the tourists drop flowers at the center stone. Yuuri catches his breath and tucks his feet up under him, heedless of whatever it is he might have run through on his way. 

“Victor,” he starts, then pauses. If this goes wrong, Victor will never come back again, and Yuuri is trying to prepare himself for it. “I’m worried you’re still in, uh. Subdrop.” He whispers the last word so some of the people milling around don’t hear it. “It’s from crashing out after all the endorphins you build up while we’re playing.  But I think you’re also still upset about disappointing me, and maybe a little mad at me, and it’s only going to get worse if we don’t talk out everything you’re feeling.”

Victor stops twiddling the edge of his tshirt and looks up. “I’m not mad, Yuuri. I mean, maybe a tiny bit because seriously, that fucking hurt. But I brought it on myself.”

Yuuri just sits and waits. He’ll get to the root of it, whatever it is that’s got him so unsettled.

“I just. Um. I talked to Chris a little, and he gave me some breathing exercises to help center myself, and um. I think I realize now why I’m so unhappy.” He looks down, and Yuuri tries to ignore the buzzing in his gut, because Victor is really dancing around the issue now, like he doesn’t want to admit what’s wrong, and Yuuri has a strange sense that he’s not going to like it. 

“It’s okay, Victor. I’ll understand, whatever it is. I promise.”

Victor turns around on the bench to face Yuuri and tucks his feet up as well. “I didn’t expect to feel quite this way,” he says. “I knew, going in, that the power dynamics of these relationships are delicate. But I didn’t—” He stops and swallows. “I didn’t know I could want it this much,” he says, all in a rush and  whispered like a secret. “I didn’t know I’d want to please you like I do, and I’m afraid.” Yuuri watches as a blush dusts the tops of his cheeks, and he looks down again, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. 

Yuuri’s hands are at his mouth, utterly floored by what he’s just heard. Victor wants him, has crossed that line between just dabbling and  _ desiring _ , and Yuuri wants to scream and punch the air and dance a stupid dance right there in the middle of Central Park with half the tourist population of New York watching him because he’s about to explode with happiness. 

But he doesn’t. He just leans forward and presses his forehead to Victor’s, tastes the air he’s breathing.

“You don’t have to be afraid, my beauty. I’m right here with you,” he whispers, and wraps him in his arms. 

………………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's flogger:  
> https://www.efleathercraft.com/products/SUEDE-FLOGGER-18-FALLS-BLACK-AND-PURPLE-p80580184
> 
> Victor's plug:  
> https://www.bondagefetishstore.com/p/DPD-2927-00.html


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri’s feet whisper across the hardwood and there it is, the familiar sweep of his fingers from Victor’s nape to the small of his back, but then he places a palm between Victor’s shoulder blades, soft and reverent.
> 
> “You look beautiful, Victor,” Yuuri says, voice pitched low. “Thank you for coming to see me tonight.”
> 
> Victor swallows against the lump forming in his throat. “Thank you for asking me, sir. I… I’m so happy to be here with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Liz, pursuitofnerdiness, for excellent beta, and A.N.D. for tecnical consultation on the scene! You guys are the best!

Victor wants to kiss him.

Yuuri’s forehead is pressed to his, his arms circling Victor’s shoulders, his lips a breath away, and Victor wants to kiss him. Wants to know if the taste of his mouth, the caress of his tongue will bring out the same shuddering moans as Yuuri’s does to him, if the heat of his body is enough to satisfy him. Yuuri tilts his head until their cheeks are brushing against each other, skin a gentle slip of silk on silk, Yuuri’s hair tickling Victor’s nose. 

God, he wants.

“Will you come to me tonight?” Yuuri whispers in his ear. “Will you please? I think…I think I need this, too.” He punctuates his request by pulling back just enough to look Victor in the eye, shy and hopeful, and touches Victor’s lips with his fingertips.

Victor captures that hand in his own, presses a kiss to the palm. His heart is beating in his throat and he knows Yuuri was telling the absolute truth – Yuuri is right in the middle of this maelstrom with him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“He wants you to come over. Tonight. On a Sunday.” Chris’s flat disbelief is, honestly, a bit disheartening.

“Yes, he asked me to come,” Victor says, flipping through his chest of drawers. “I cannot fucking believe I only have one pair of clean underwear left and it’s  _ this _ pair,” he snarls, and throws his green boxers on the bed and starts digging in his laundry basket. He might have time to hand wash a pair and get them dry before seven. It’s only three thirty now. “He said he felt, and I quote, that he needs this.”  Victor finds the blue briefs he’s been hunting for and grins, triumphant. “So I’m going. He wants me, Chris. He  _ wants _ me.” 

Chris sighs heavily then smiles before he ducks out of the room with a shake of his head. Victor shrugs it off until Chris reappears in the doorway and throws a pair of briefs at him, hitting him square in the chest.  

“What the hell?” Victor says, and then looks at them. They’re red, slightly sheer, and look like they’re cut to show the bottoms of his ass cheeks.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Chris says. “But I’m telling you, if he rips them off you owe me seventy five dollars U.S., and I’ll take that in cash or a bottle of scotch.” 

Victor pauses. “He didn’t actually say what I was supposed to wear, now that I think about it.” Victor has a moment of panic. Should he text? Call? If he doesn’t do either, should he guess? He sits down hard at the edge of his bed.

“Come here, you idiot,” Chris says, then pulls him in for a hug before bending down and playfully rubbing his face on Victor’s stomach.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Victor yells, then pulls Chris down onto the bed, panic momentarily forgotten in a burst of laughter. “What was that for?”

Chris laughs long and hard, his frame shaking with mirth. “I thought maybe whatever mojo you’ve got in your pants that’s managed to snare Yuuri would rub off on me,” he says. “Because seriously, Victor. I told you, you’re a natural born submissive. But even I didn’t expect you to be the one to tame Yuuri  _ that _ quickly.” 

Victor flops down next to him and passes a hand over his face. “I didn’t either. I don’t know. I know what you said about him never sticking around but… it’s good, right? What we’re doing right now?”

“I don’t know, honestly. He’s never collared a sub. I don’t know if he’s ever had a boyfriend the whole, what, five years I’ve known him?”

Victor thinks about that, then holds Chris’s ridiculous underwear between his fingers and looks them over critically. “Let’s find out, then, shall we?” he says, and hops off the bed to go shower.

“That’s the spirit,” Chris calls after him. “And try not to get your ass beat this time.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It’s 7:04 pm, and Victor is kneeling in the playroom on the red cushion, clad in Chris’s ridiculous underwear, and trying not to gasp every time his fidgeting bumps the plug he decided to wear at the very last minute. He’s going all out tonight, even took the time to add a bit of eyeliner and shimmery powder on his shoulders, and when the door opens behind him, the tiny intake of breath makes him bite his lip to hold down a smirk.

_ Gotcha,  _ **_sir._ **

Yuuri’s feet whisper across the hardwood and there it is, the familiar sweep of his fingers from Victor’s nape to the small of his back, but then he places a palm between Victor’s shoulder blades, soft and reverent.

“You look beautiful, Victor,” Yuuri says, voice pitched low. “Thank you for coming to see me tonight.”

Victor swallows against the lump forming in his throat. “Thank you for asking me, sir. I… I’m so happy to be here with you.”

Yuuri walks around to stand in front and his motions are, by now, so familiar and comforting Victor can feel the tension slide from his shoulders in an instant. Yes, this is where he belongs, kneeling at Yuuri’s feet, ready to accept whatever he has planned.  Yuuri looks so strong, the curve of his biceps outlined in the low light, the cut of his hipbones visible over the waistband of his low-slung jeans.  Victor wonders if he’ll ever get to feel the press of them into the backs of his thighs.

“I would like to try the same things we tried last time,” Yuuri says, and cups Victor’s chin. “I’ll give you a little extra help this time, but I still owe you a reward, you know.” Yuuri slides his hand over his stomach and hooks a thumb in his waistband, and Victor wonders if he’s thinking about the heat of Victor’s mouth on him. Victor glances up and realizes the tiny gold barbells he usually wears in his piercings have been replaced by gold loops, and Victor’s mouth waters.

“If I do well today,” he says, struck with inspiration, “May I touch those, too?” 

Yuuri’s eyes flare with heat. “You may,” he says. “I’d like that very much.”

Victor smiles in smug satisfaction. It’s almost a guarantee, then. Yuuri crouches down until he’s level with Victor’s eyes, and Victor blinks confusion. 

“But I expect you to listen, and to obey me,” Yuuri says, seriously. “Part of that obedience is to use your safeword if you need to. Is that clear?”

Victor nods. “Yes, sir. I promise.”

“Good. Then go lie down on the bench.”

Victor scrambles to get to the bench as Yuuri goes to the cabinet. Victor arranges himself carefully so that his ass is up and his dick is sort of off the end of the bench. Oh, no, he forgot Chris’s underwear, should he take it off?

As he is debating whether or not he should quickly strip down, Yuuri comes back and runs a hand over the cheek of Victor’s ass, the bottom half peeking out from under the hem of the briefs. Victor freezes.

“I like that you wore something special for me,” Yuuri says, and tucks a fingertip in the hem to trace along Victor’s skin. “They’re incredibly sexy.”

“Chris let me borrow them,” he says, and then mentally smacks himself. As if his mouth is on autopilot he keeps talking. “He says if you tear them I owe him seventy five dollars.”  _ What the fuck is wrong with you, shut up shut up shut up! _

Yuuri chuckles, and Victor is delighted that at least someone is amused. “Of course he did. They’re very … Chris. But we should take them off now.”

“Okay,” Victor breathes, and lifts his hips as Yuuri hooks his fingers into the waistband and then, before Victor can react, he twists his hand into the fabric and yanks, hard, the flimsy waistband breaking and the side seam tearing apart with an audible rip. Yuuri drags them the rest of the way off then dangles the ruined scrap of fabric off of his finger in front of Victor’s face.

“Oh God,” Victor moans, both incredibly turned on and a bit annoyed at his suddenly lighter wallet.

Yuuri bends to get close. “I’m sending them home with you with a thank you note and seventy five in cash,” he says, and brushes a kiss over Victor’s ear. “Chris will get over it. He should have known better, sending me such a delightfully wrapped little present.”

Victor nods and shivers. “He’ll be happy to know it.”

Yuuri laughs again, then rises to walk back to the cabinet. Victor watches as he selects his flogger, but as he returns to the bench he slows, then stops. 

“You’re wearing your plug,” Yuuri says, voice wavering ever so slightly. He looks stunned, and then he reaches out to lightly circle the tip of his finger around the base.  “I didn’t expect…”

Victor shudders at the slight pressure. “Is that okay?”

Yuuri breathes out a huff of laughter. “Of course. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Victor preens under the praise and settles himself more comfortably against the bench, his forehead on his folded hands. Anticipation is starting to fizzle its way through his nerves, waiting for the first kiss of suede on his skin. When he feels Yuuri’s hand on the curve of his hip instead, he looks over his shoulder in confusion.

Yuuri meets his eyes, and then carefully, slowly, presses a soft kiss to the base of his spine, his eyes fluttering closed.

Victor’s heart stutters in his chest, and he meets Yuuri’s heated gaze again as he pulls away to stand over him, flogger in hand.

“Are you ready?” he says. 

Victor nods, and the first bite of the flogger is bliss.

He loses track quickly after that, once his teeth find his lip his body seems to sink into itself, losing the individual sensations of hands and feet and fingers and toes, his entire being suffused with a low smoldering fire. Yuuri is almost silent behind him, uttering the occasional “Yes, so lovely,” or “Good boy, you’re so good,” almost under his breath, until he pauses and runs a hand up Victor’s spine, a spike of heat causing him to cry out before he can stop himself.

“No, don’t, let me hear it,” Yuuri says, the flogger lands again, on the shoulder this time. “Let me hear every—” and another, on the other shoulder, and Victor gasps.

“—single—” This time, the tails bite at the space below his thigh and he whimpers, dick hard and fingers clenched around the bench.

“—sound.” The flogger strikes the upper curve of his ass with a heavier blow, one that has the strength of Yuuri’s bicep behind it, and the end of the blow drags the fall across the plug and Victor feels a scream bubble up but it comes out as a sob instead.

The flogger thuds against the floor where Yuuri drops it, and then he’s straddling the bench in front of Victor’s face.  He slides his hands through Victor’s hair and pulls it away from his forehead, encouraging him to lean up on his elbows and look at him. “Color?” he says, his dark eyes intent, searching. 

“Green,” Victor hiccups. “Please, sir.”

He must be satisfied with what he sees, because this time, instead of dragging Victor to the lounge he stands up and strips his jeans off only to straddle the bench again, seated with his cock in Victor’s face. 

“Take your reward, my beauty,” he rasps, and tugs Victor’s hair until he inches forward to get his lips around the head of Yuuri’s cock.

It’s bliss, the heavy weight of him against his tongue, arousal burning him up from the inside out as he opens his mouth wider and lets Yuuri thrust shallowly into the welcoming heat of his mouth. He tries to flutter his tongue against the head as it enters, sucks down hard as Yuuri withdraws, and gathers his wits enough to edge forward on his elbows so he can get his fingers on Yuuri’s balls. 

“You’re so good,” Yuuri says, breath heavy, thrusting quickly now. “I’m coming, Victor, swallow it, come on,” Yuuri pants and gasps and Victor feels the way Yuuri’s body starts to lose that fine edge of control, in the way the head of his cock goes just that little bit deeper, just enough that Victor can feel himself almost ready to gag. He breathes through his nose and moans at Yuuri’s hands in his hair, twisting hard until Yuuri growls his pleasure, come flooding Victor’s mouth and throat. He sucks in a quick breath then swallows as quickly as he can but he still sputters a bit. Yuuri pulls back immediately, come smearing across Victor’s lips.

“God, you’re amazing,” Yuuri says, chest heaving, and Victor leans down to pillow his head on Yuuri’s strong thigh.  Yuuri pets his hair and soothes the pain from his grip. “We’re not finished yet,” he says. “Color?”

Victor tries to consider the question. His own erection is hanging heavy and full, almost painfully so. Could he take more of this? What more is there?

“Green,” he says.

“Good,” Yuuri says, then swings his leg over and rises from the bench, only to kneel behind Victor and place a hand on his warm, red skin. “I’m taking this out now,” he says, and slowly, carefully, removes the lavender glass plug. Victor gasps at the sensation, the ridges along the glass head tugging at his rim.

“Oh, this one is very nice,” Yuuri says. “But I’ve got something better.” 

Then he leans forward and licks the flat of his tongue from Victor’s balls to the base of his spine.

“Holy fuck,” Victor says, body erupting in goosebumps.

Yuuri snickers, the sound dark and knowing, and before Victor can prepare himself he spreads Victor’s ass with his hands and dives back in, tongue swirling and probing at his hole. 

Victor is sure he’s about to spontaneously combust.  His skin is hot, he’s gone from a warm ball of sensation to a crackling pitch of awareness of every single touch, and when Yuuri presses his tongue in, in, in and then strokes his cock with a tight grip, he can’t stop the long, broken cry that echoes from the playroom walls.

“Yes,” Yuuri hisses against his skin. “Fuck yes. Come for me, Victor, come on,” he says, and continues to stroke him as he licks into Victor’s hole. Victor is shivering, now, the sensation almost more than he can bear, but then as Yuuri carefully hooks two fingers into his rim the feeling jolts him forward into an orgasm that is almost painful in its intensity. 

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” he chants, face buried in his folded arms. “Fuck,  _ please _ .” A sob tears out of his chest as Yuuri continues to stroke him through it. He almost wants to crawl away from the sensation, but Yuuri lets go of his cock and keeps him tethered with his strong hand on Victor's hip until the burning star of his orgasm has faded and Victor is shuddering occasionally with aftershocks.

It's silent for the space of a heartbeat,  Yuuri’s hand on Victor's hip, his cheek pressed against the other, almost an embrace. Victor doesn't get to enjoy it for long before Yuuri stirs.

“Good, yes, come on, let’s get you up, darling,” Yuuri coos, and helps Victor stand on shaky legs. “Come into the bathroom, that’s good.” Yuuri steers him across the playroom and into the bathroom, pulls out the stool and lets Victor sit carefully on it. He runs the bath and opens a cabinet and pulls out two robes and towels. As he bends over to select a washcloth from the lower shelf, Victor notices a greenish bruise on his hip, almost healed but it looks like it had been pretty significant.

“What did you do?” he asks, and Yuuri jumps. 

“What? Do what?” he says, and pulls one of the robes on over his shoulders and belts it. He drops the stack of towels on the counter and leans over to turn off the water. “Come on, in with you now.”

“To your hip,” Victor says, and climbs in. “That’s a big bruise.”

Yuuri laughs, and the sounds is strangely hollow. “Oh, that. Nothing, really, just a stupid thing. Hit myself on the dining room table, having a nerf gun fight with Phichit. My own dumb fault. I shouldn’t act like I’m still a teenager, you know?”

Victor sucks in a breath as he lowers himself into the water. It’s very hot, and smells like orange and something darker, smokier. It’s heavenly.

“No sense in denying yourself fun,” Victor says, and tilts his head back and closes his eyes. He weighs risk and reward and finds the balance likely in his favor. “Speaking of,” he adds, and cracks open his eyes to see Yuuri watching him carefully from his perch on the stool.  “Why don’t you get in with me?” 

Yuuri looks slightly startled. Should he not have asked, then? One day he’ll understand all of the rules. Maybe.

“This is about you, Victor. Not about me.” 

Ah, so that’s it. “Then, it would make me feel better if you got in with me,” he teases, and deploys his best pleading expression, one that gets him almost anything he wants from almost anyone. “Please?” he adds. 

Yuuri cuts his eyes to the side, obviously thinking it over. Victor holds his breath. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says, and stands to shed his robe. Victor can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face. “But you have to scoot up. I want to sit behind you.”

Victor shrugs. Sure, whatever he wants. He slides forward in the huge tub and lets Yuuri slip in behind him, and leans back into the circle of Yuuri’s arms, his back warm against Yuuri’s chest. 

Perfect. Victor sighs and wiggles down a little more, and can feel Yuuri’s cock soft, but stirring, under his back. Even better.

“Don’t think I don’t notice what you’re doing,” Yuuri says, and flicks Victor’s ear. “You know where we are.”

Victor sighs. “Yes, yes, I know. “ 

“How do you feel now?” he asks. “Any better?”

“Much better. Thank you for asking me to come tonight.”

“Thank you for coming. What did you like best?”

Victor snorts a laugh. “Besides eating me out?” Yuuri snickers against the crown of Victor’s head. “I really liked the flogging. The feeling was so … intense, I think is the word. I felt like I was floating after a while.”

“Sounds like you managed to drop into subspace. All the endorphins from enduring the impact of the flogging build up, and get you into that zone where you’re almost high with it.”

Victor hums and considers. He’s never experienced anything quite like it, except rare occasions where he was skating and the music and movement of his body became almost hypnotic, and he’d blink and realize he’d not noticed time passing for hours. He wonders if that’s why this feels so familiar, so comforting.

Yuuri takes a handful of liquid soap and begins to wash Victor’s chest, his motions languid and soothing, before switching to massage his shoulders. The slosh of the water echoes from the tiled walls and Victor is lulled into a soft, peaceful state. He loves this, he loves how Yuuri can take him apart and put him back together, how he can be so beautifully caring, even when his touch is hard and unforgiving. He can see why Chris speaks of him with such affection and how others would gravitate toward his calm, caring demeanor.  

“Yuuri, is it true you’ve never had a collared sub?” he asks, the words leaving his mouth before his alert brain can stop them. Yuuri’s hands still for a moment, before they return to carefully washing his arm.

“Yes, it’s true,” he says quietly. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m sorry to be so nosy, I just wondered. You’re so amazing. How do you not have subs beating down your door?”

Yuuri chuckles. “Oh, I have my share. I just haven’t found anyone who … fits, with me. Someone I want more than just in the playroom. It’s hard, to find that combination. Someone you want both inside and outside.”

“Ah. Okay. I just wondered, I guess. What it would take for a Dom to decide to collar a sub.” Victor can hear the lame excuse for the question and he scrambles. “For the book, you know.”

“Yes, for the book,” Yuuri says absently, a finger drawing across Victor’s collarbone. Victor lets his head fall back against Yuuri’s shoulder, then turns his head and notices Yuuri’s gold nipple rings.  He reaches out a tentative finger and traces one. Yuuri shivers.

“Is it okay if I touch them?” Victor asks. “You said I could if I did well.”

“Yes, I did. I thought maybe earlier, but. Um. Yes. You may.” 

Victor touches the gold hanging from his right nipple and watches the nipple itself grow hard and pebbled. He looks amazing. Victor absently wonders if he should do something like it.

“Did it hurt?” he asks and flicks one lightly, just to see how very sensitive Yuuri’s nipples really are.

“Oh, God. Um. Yeah, it hurt quite a bit, but it was good, right after. Okay, that’s enough of that,” Yuuri says, and kisses Victor’s fingers before putting his hand back. “Playtime is over, remember?” he says, but the threat is a playful one.

Victor smiles against his skin.  God, it feels so good to be here with him like this, a quiet, intimate space for just the two of them, where they can just talk. Yuuri draws his fingers up Victor’s neck, massaging the heavy tendon at the junction of his shoulder, then shifts slightly.

“I need to do your face,” he whispers. Victor can feel his cock, hard against his back, but ignores it. Yuuri slips out from behind him and, to Victor’s shock, he straddles Victor’s lap, washcloth in hand. Victor’s hands immediately go to his hips and sink in a little.

“Close your eyes,” Yuuri says, and lightly drags the cloth in little circles over Victor’s cheeks, chin, and forehead, before wringing it out in the warm water and wiping the soap off. His cock barely brushes Victor’s stomach, and he can feel himself getting harder under Yuuri’s gentle ministrations, at the weight of his body on Victor’s lap. Yuuri drops the cloth into the water, his hands coming to rest on Victor’s chest, and Victor’s heart speeds up as they stare at each other, the water completely still around their unmoving bodies. Yuuri bites his bottom lip, and his eyes drop to Victor’s mouth.

“Yuuri,” Victor rasps, and tries to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist and pull him in for a kiss. But Yuuri pushes himself backward to the other end of the tub and sucks in a deep breath. 

“I’m finished,” he chokes out. “Feel free to stay in as long as you want. I’ll be in the playroom when you’re ready.” He lifts himself out of the water and grabs a towel to wrap around his waist, not even trying to dry off before he walks out of the bathroom.

Victor smiles to himself, incredibly turned on and hope filling his heart, until he realizes it’s already mid-June.

He's running out of time. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris underwear looks like this, but his tastes are more expensive and they're probably coture or something. 
> 
> http://www.covermale.com/cover-male-pouch-enhancing-cheeky-boxer-brief-red


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course. Is. Um. Is there something I should know, then, before we start? Do you need to cancel today?” Yuuri drops the small box he’s holding on the steps and gives Victor his full attention.
> 
> Victor shakes his head. “No, not that. I just. I wondered…” Here he takes a deep breath and lets it out, then steps forward to take Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri’s body courses with the warmth of that touch, and his anxiety starts ramping up, preparing him for disaster.
> 
> But Victor only smiles, bites his lip. Then: “Would you go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for it? I hope you are. I sure am. <3
> 
> Again, Pursuitofnerdiness and AND whipped this into shape and I give them all the love in the world.

 

Yuuri combs through the tails of his suede flogger and carefully lays them out on the table in one smooth line. He eyes them critically, looking for any flaws in the leather that could leave an unexpected mark or a cut, or for tresses that have broken completely. So far everything looks fine, but a few have stretched, the leather becoming slightly worn, so he snips them even with a sharp pair of leatherworking scissors before hanging the flogger up in the cabinet to dry.

He wonders idly if Victor would like the heavier flogger hanging next to it, and imagines, for just a moment, the deep thud of the longer, heavier leather as it lands on Victor’s back, then later, pressing kisses to the sweet curve of his spine, the skin hot and damp under his lips as he fucks into him, slowly.

As it is he can’t stop thinking about what it would have been like to kiss him Sunday, if he’d given into the pull he’d felt to fit his mouth across Victor’s, to sample his taste, to lick into his mouth and nip at his lips until they were red and swollen and glossy. He’d come so close, but the warnings he’d given himself rang loud and clear at the very last second.

 _You can’t have this_.

He can have everything inside the playroom he wants but nothing outside, and he needs to ruthlessly beat down that small match flame of hope that keeps striking in his chest whenever he sees Victor smile.

“Can I borrow your spreader bar for Wednesday?” Phichit asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Why, yours broken?” Yuuri asks, and pulls it out of the drawer and hands it to him.

Phichit looks it over and checks the clips. “Yeah, one of the cuffs got twisted last weekend. I’m sort of pissy about it, actually.”

Yuuri nods, understanding. Their stuff is expensive to replace, but people are unpredictable. “Speaking of borrowing things, do you have any candles left?”

Phichit opens a drawer in his cabinet and pulls one white pillar from a box. “Next to last one. I’ll order more. Planning a little something for Friday, I take it?”

“Yeah, he put fire and ice on his yes list, so,” Yuuri pulls a dog chain collar from the drawer and puts it in the top part of the cabinet so it’s easy to find on Friday.

Phichit snickers. “I wish I could see it. He’s going to swear _so much_. Also, are you around Wednesday? I need a spotter, if you are.”

“Sure, no problem.” Yuuri watches Phichit pull out his long, red silk scarves, the kind he favors to accent his suspension bondage knotwork, and Yuuri figures he’d better be ready to settle in for a long session. “Anyone I know?”

“No, someone I met back in May. We’ve been chatting a while, but it seems my reputation precedes me.” Phichit wiggles his eyebrows. “It’s gonna be _amazing_.”

Yuuri just snickers and finishes up with his cabinet. When he’s finished, he watches Phichit line out all of his scarves so he can fold them into little unfurling roses. He loves all these little touches, Yuuri thinks fondly, and sits down on the bench with a scarf and tries it himself. When he’s finished, the rose is a bit lopsided and loose, and Phichit laughs and takes it out of his hands to fold it properly.

“Peach, do you think we’re strange?” Yuuri says.

Phichit’s hands still. “No, why?”

Yuuri drops back to lie along the bench. He stares at the ceiling, at the constellation of hooks and eyes that shine from the rafters.  “I don’t know.” He sighs. “I mean, look at us, like this. We’re planning activities and trading supplies for our sex dungeon like…I don’t know. Like this is what everyone does.”

“Fuck everyone else,” Phichit says. “And I know you think the same way. So what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Victor asked me Sunday if I’d ever had a collared sub.”

“And?” Phichit says, the tone of his voice an obvious “ _So what_?”

Yuuri lifts his legs until his knees are almost up to his chin, the stretch in his spine making it pop. “Well, I mean, I know it’s not a big deal, but I’ve not even had a boyfriend in five years.”

“Neither have I, you realize,” Phichit says.

“Yeah, but you’re a big slut, so—“

“Hey, fuck you, you’re no saint.”

Yuuri tries to laugh off his disquiet. “You know I’m kidding. But I mean. What if I never do? What if all this—“ he waves his hand around the playroom “—means I have to choose one or the other?”

Phichit puts down his scarf and comes over to look down at Yuuri’s face. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of Victor, Yuuri.”

“I’m not thinking of Victor, Yuuri.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me too. I almost kissed him Sunday,” Yuuri whispers, and it feels like a confession.

Phichit abruptly sits down on the floor and Yuuri turns his head to look at him. “You’re kidding,” he breathes.

“He was just…there, and so beautiful, and I just wanted to. And I’m pretty sure he wanted me to.”

“That’s because Victor is a sweet little vanilla bean, I don’t care how many sessions you’ve had with him so far.”

“Four.”

“Okay, four. He’s used to kissing. As are most people. That no kissing rule is just your own little thing.”

“I know. I want to know what he’s like outside the playroom. I want to just…talk to him. And spend time with him.”

“Katsuki Yuuri, you’ve still not told him about your skating career. Or, you know, your ridiculous lifelong obsession with him. You’re crazy to even be thinking of this until that happens.”

“I know,” Yuuri says, and closes his eyes to lift his head only to drop it back to the bench with a clunk.

And he does know. He knows bone-deep that even contemplating something so ridiculous when he’s still hiding the most significant fact of his life is just a setup for heartbreak. That, and Victor is only in New York until August. Two more months.

He’s running out of time.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

_9:48 AM_

_I thought we’d try something new Friday._

_ <image.jpg> _

 

_Victor 9:50 AM_

_Oh wow. Yes. YES. Is that the fire and ice you told me about?_

 

_9:51 AM_

_Yes. You get an oil massage before, too, so the wax won’t stick to your skin._

 

_9:55 AM_

_If I’m a good boy what do I get after ☺_

 

_9:59 AM_

_Greedy. You already get a massage and the amazing sensation of hot wax and ice on your skin. What do I get?_

 

_10:08 AM_

_My undying devotion. Sir._

_…………………………………………………………………………………………._

Yuuri closes the door to his bedroom at 6:55 pm on Friday and practically skips down the long staircase into the hall, swings around the elaborate wood newel post, and takes the steps to the basement two at a time. He remembered his lighter, his hair is well-secured back where an errant strand won’t accidentally get singed, and he’s got a little present for Victor clutched in his hands. Tonight will be amazing.

As he reaches the bottom basement stair he sees a sweep of platinum hair and his steps slow. To his utter shock, Victor is standing outside the playroom door, fully dressed, and their eyes lock as Yuuri takes the last step to stand in front of him.

“Victor?” he asks, concerned. “Is everything okay?” Yuuri is pretty sure it isn’t, because he looks _terrified._

“Yes, I just…I was hoping to talk to you for a minute, before.” His fingers find their way into the hem of his tshirt, and the sight of his little nervous tic makes Yuuri’s stomach seize, his entire persona collapsing under the weight of this unexpected conversation.

“Of course. Is. Um. Is there something I should know, then, before we start? Do you need to cancel today?” Yuuri drops the small box he’s holding on the steps and gives Victor his full attention.

Victor shakes his head. “No, not that. I just. I wondered…” Here he takes a deep breath and lets it out, then steps forward to take Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri’s body courses with the warmth of that touch, and his anxiety starts ramping up, preparing him for disaster.

But Victor only smiles, bites his lip. Then: “Would you go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

Yuuri exhales heavily and can feel his brain stutter to a halt under two warring factions. This _is_ bad, but on a whole different level, where he’s fighting himself to do what he should and say no, when every other instinct is screaming yes. “Oh I don’t…I don’t know if that’s really a good idea,” he finally forces out.

“Why not?” Victor asks, and pulls Yuuri to him to wrap an arm around his waist, drawing them close enough that Yuuri can feel his breath on his cheek. “I know there’s something there, Yuuri. I know you feel it, too.”

Yearning starts to overtake his other senses. It’s been nearly a week since he’s seen Victor, and now to have him here, pressed so close…he’s not strong enough, not against Victor’s hand splayed across his back and their fingers intertwined and Victor pressing a small kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m not going to lie to you. I do feel… more, for you,” Yuuri says, and desperation and uncertainty paints his voice. He can hear it, and he knows Victor will, too.

“Then why not? I think…I think we could be good together. What you said, about wanting someone inside and outside of the playroom. I think I can be that. Let me show you.”

“Victor…”

Victor shushes him with a finger on his lips and opens the playroom door. Yuuri follows him inside and watches, silent, as Victor strips down and places all of his clothes on a chair. He then walks, prowling and graceful, to the red cushion in the center of the room and kneels in one smooth movement, hands perfectly placed on his thighs and back beautifully straight.

Yuuri watches him a moment, almost unable to process the subtle shift in Victor’s demeanor as he waits, the way his shoulders lose their tension, the way his face relaxes into a gentle smile. He’s watching the transformation right before his eyes as Victor slips into submission, and Yuuri’s own body responds to it like a lifeline.

He’s breathtaking.

When he finally steps close he feels his anxiety slip away like the wash of the tide, with the sweep of his fingers from Victor’s nape to his waist. He can feel control assert itself over the buzz of nerves in his stomach, and he stands in front of Victor and does the one thing he thought he never would do in his own playroom.

He gives that hard-won control to someone else.

“Show me, then,” Yuuri says, his voice low in his throat, “your undying devotion.”

Victor shudders out a breath before he bends to press reverent and featherlight kisses to the tops of Yuuri’s feet, and then slides his hands up Yuuri’s calves and around to his thighs. He leans forward to bestow a kiss on each, his eyelashes butterfly wings against Yuuri’s skin, before Victor drags his mouth up to lip over the crest of Yuuri’s hipbone, bare over his low-slung pants.

Yuuri drops his chin to his chest and sighs, taking in the top of Victor’s head, silver hair shining and cheek tilted lovingly against Yuuri’s stomach.

“I can be this, Yuuri. I can be more than this. Let me prove it to you. Please. Give me that chance.”

Yuuri drops to his knees and presses their chests together, realizing this way how much shorter he is than Victor. He tilts his chin up and Victor’s eyes blaze, wanting. Yuuri nudges closer, ghosts his breath over Victor’s mouth. Victor chases his lips but Yuuri pulls away, edges under Victor’s jaw to kiss him there, and then down his neck to the curve of his shoulder.

Yuuri’s entire body is running with quicksilver heat, buzzing through his veins and leaving him unable to focus on anything else but this: what Victor can do to him, and what he does in return.  Yuuri strips his pants off as Victor watches with burning eyes, and as he kneels he urges Victor to turn around so Yuuri can slot himself between Victor’s knees and up against his ass. Victor gasps as Yuuri’s cock presses against his crease.

He’s wearing his plug, and Yuuri shifts back to slowly, carefully pull it out. The glass clings to his skin with sticky remnants of lube, and Yuuri reaches for one of the many bottles stashed around the playroom to pump more into his hand and slick himself.

“May I, bare?” he asks, and a full-body shudder runs down Victor’s back. “I’ve not been with anyone else.”

“Please. I haven’t either. Please, I’m begging you.”

One of Yuuri’s arms wraps around Victor’s waist, the other hand splays at the base of his throat, and he carefully presses into Victor’s yielding body with a slow thrust, restraint burning in his thighs and Victor’s pulse beating under his fingertips. Victor sobs out a gasp when he’s fully seated, and Yuuri can’t stop himself from burying his face in between Victor’s shoulder blades and showering the skin with kisses.

“Color?” he chokes out.

“Green, fuck yes, green,” Victor growls and thrusts back against Yuuri’s body, fucking himself deeply on Yuuri’s cock.

Yuuri slaps his flank and Victor gasps, then moans. “Yes, my beauty. Take your pleasure,” Yuuri whispers as Victor thrusts back again. Yuuri meets him halfway, their bodies colliding over and over with the lewd sound of skin on skin. Victor is tight around him, maddeningly so, and Yuuri startles at the feel of an orgasm already starting to build.

Yuuri slaps his ass again, and then pulls them down until Victor is cradled in his lap and Yuuri can only use his hips to thrust up as far as Victor’s body will allow it. Victor shakes his head and then pulls off suddenly with a hiss, and as Yuuri scrambles in his head to sort out what went wrong, Victor turns around and backs Yuuri down until Yuuri is laying flat on the floor. Victor straddles him, settles back onto Yuuri’s cock and begins to ride him, Yuuri’s hands clamped on his thighs.

“Please, can I touch myself?” Victor says, and at Yuuri’s nod Victor’s hand is pulling desperately at his own cock.

He’s a vision like this, chest flushed with arousal, hair falling into his eyes, the bow of his mouth pink and round with pleasure.  He huffs out little throaty gasps and moans every time their bodies meet, a soundtrack of sex that Yuuri will happily replay in his head until the day he dies.

“This can be us, please, Yuuri,” Victor says. “God, yes, I’m coming. Are you close?”

Yuuri’s body sparks at his name spoken in the breathless, mindless haze of Victor’s lust and he claws around for some sort of purchase on the floor so he can fuck up harder, push those little groans into screams. As Victor’s body starts to tighten down, begins to go rigid, Yuuri pushes himself up until he can reach and sets his teeth to the junction of Victor’s neck and shoulder and bites down, hard.

Victor’s cock pulses in his hand and he screams, a long, drawn out siren song of pleasure that has Yuuri coming in the space of a heartbeat, shaking apart at the seams and wondering if he is ever going to be the same again.

When their lips finally meet in a shuddering, tearful, desperate kiss that has the longing of weeks, the weight of years behind it, Yuuri knows he won’t.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

They don’t stop kissing; once the floodgates are open, the taboo removed, they don’t stop kissing each other even as the shower spray soaks them both, makes them both weak with heat and overstimulation and steam.

Yuuri drowns in it, in the sensation of little nips and licks at Victor’s lips, in the way Victor will suck lightly on his bottom lip or trace the inside of Yuuri’s mouth with his tongue. He’s got both hands full of Victor’s perfect ass, his mouth occupied with Victor’s tongue and this is where he wants to stay, forever.

“Mmm. Going to run out of hot water eventually,” Yuuri says, and places a quick peck at the corner of Victor’s mouth. “Should have used the bath.”

“Don’t care,” Victor mumbles. He bends down to lick and nip at Yuuri’s collarbone, and Yuuri sighs, arches back into Victor’s strong hands. It’s been ages since he’s trusted a lover with his own body like this, and it’s intoxicating.

“Kneel for me, sweetheart,” he says, and Victor smirks.

“Didn’t you just get enough of that?” he snarks, even as he sinks to the hard shower floor. “Playtime is over.”

“Playtime never really got started,” Yuuri says, and turns the spray to the side a bit. He pours some shampoo into his hand and begins to wash Victor’s hair. “Because a certain person decided to take charge of the evening’s agenda.”

Victor snorts, but then sighs and preens under the slow scalp massage Yuuri gives him, waiting patiently until Yuuri rinses his hair out and pats him on the shoulder so he can stand.  Yuuri turns to start rinsing his own hair but as he does, Victor’s hands land on his hips. He turns him around carefully and takes over, washing Yuuri’s hair just as Yuuri had washed his own, and Yuuri smiles into the luxury of it.

“Thank you,” he says, and leans in for another kiss. Victor cups his face and kisses him carefully, then more forcefully, the kiss ramping up from sweet and chaste to wet and filthy in the matter of a moment when Victor opens his mouth and his tongue sweeps across the seam of Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri can feel himself growing hard against Victor’s body, Victor’s own cock starting to press firm and insistent at the crease of Yuuri’s thigh.

“ _Christ,_ I want you.” Victor mumbles against his lips. “It’s like I can’t get enough. I go home after Fridays and I jerk off all week thinking of you. I jerk off the hour before I get here. The hour after I leave. In the shower. Before I go to sleep. And it’s you, always. You.”

Yuuri shivers hearing it, Victor’s perfect mouth saying how much he gets off to thoughts of Yuuri, and Yuuri’s internal alarm is screaming.

_You can’t have this._

_You can’t have this._

Yuuri sinks down to the shower floor until he can take Victor Nikiforov’s perfect cock into his mouth and suck, long and hard with a nasty little scrape of teeth until Victor bucks and shouts and comes, Yuuri swallowing every drop.

 _The fuck I can’t_ , he thinks, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Well, I didn’t break the skin, at least,” Yuuri says, and dabs a little antiseptic cream for good measure on the bruise on Victor’s neck. “But I did leave a mark.  I hope…I didn’t ask, and I hope you’re okay.”

Victor leans forward and kisses Yuuri’s cheek. “I’m happy to wear it. That means you were lost in us, and I’m thrilled with it.”

Yuuri can feel his face flush. He’s marked plenty of people, but only deliberately, never in the heat of lust like he had. _Jesus._

“Hey, Yuuri. Don’t be upset.” Victor pulls the robe back up over his shoulders and sits down on the sofa in the playroom, and takes Yuuri’s hand to draw him down with him.

Yuuri tucks himself in the corner of the sofa, facing him. “I’m not, really. It’s just that this a little unusual for me.”

“Do you need me to cuddle you, then?” Victor teases. “I’m good at cuddling.”

Yuuri laughs. “Okay, then. Cuddle the fuck out of me. It’ll make for an interesting change.”

Victor grins and opens his arms, and Yuuri snuggles up against his chest. Victor wraps him up and kisses the top of his head. He’s right, honestly. He’s a champion cuddler, and Yuuri can feel his pulse start to slow.

“You never really answered me,” Victor whispers against his hair. “About tomorrow night.”

Yuuri sighs. “I can’t say no to you, you know? This is a dangerous precedent to set. You might start getting ideas.”

“So that’s a yes?”

Yuuri looks up at him and can feel the smile on his face. “Yes. I’m saying yes.”

Victor’s arms tighten up in a hug so firm Yuuri feels like he can’t breathe for a moment. “Just wait,” Victor says, and he sounds positively gleeful. “I’m going to make you so happy, Yuuri. I promise.”

Yuuri smiles and ruthlessly tamps down the tiny flutter of worry blooming in his stomach. He can have this. He _can_.

And when Victor pulls the collar of Yuuri’s robe away from his neck to press hot, open mouthed kisses under his ear, he’s determined that he _will._

_………………………………………………………_

_12:46 AM_

_I’m going to dinner with him tomorrow night._

 

_Phichit 12:46 AM_

_What the fuck I am in the middle of a club you cannot do this to me now_

 

_Phichit  12:46 AM_

_Did you tell him?_

 

_12:47 AM_

_No. I don’t think I will. He’s going back to Russia in August._

 

_12:48 AM_

_Over before it starts._

 

_Phichit 12:49 AM_

_You’re a grown-ass adult. Act like one and tell him. You’re always so ashamed of what is one of the most incredible things about you, and it pisses me off honestly._

 

_Phichit 12:49 AM_

_You have nothing to be ashamed of. You were a professional figure skater. You competed in a Grand Prix series event. You are an incredible dancer and choreographer on top of that. STOP BEING ASHAMED._

 

_12:50 AM_

_I know. But if I tell him he’ll watch the Skate Am FS and I’d rather crawl into a hole and die._

 

_Phichit 12:51 AM_

_Sigh. Did you kiss him then or what?_

 

_12:52 AM_

_Yes.  And “or what.” A lot of kissing. Lots of “or what.” Lots of it._

 

_Phichit 12:53 AM_

_Good luck, my friend. You’re going to need it._

 

Yuuri drops his phone next to his bed and sighs. Scenes, impressions of his free program at Skate America six years before flash before his eyes, the humiliation of falling, falling, again and again as he dragged further and further behind in the music and then culminated in a broken lace that left him wobbly and uncertain in his final pose, tears streaming down his face and utter horror that Victor Nikiforov, the one person he hoped like anything would see him at his best, might have witnessed the most disastrous skate of his career,  the result of overwhelming performance anxiety.

But he hadn’t, it seems, as Yuuri’s second on the ice free program slot came after a next to last finish in the short, and Victor wasn’t even anywhere near the ice when it all went down. He wasn’t even in the locker room after Yuuri left the rest of his dignity in front of the cameras by breaking down in the kiss and cry. He wasn’t anywhere that Yuuri expected skaters who were still waiting to perform to be, and he thanked his lucky stars from that day forward that there was, at least, some measure of grace left in all of this. When he told Celestino Cialdini goodbye, when he left Detroit – he put that life, everything that Victor represented, away forever.

Until he didn’t. Until Victor showed up in New York and everything he’d ever felt, thought, or experienced about Victor Nikiforov was ripped open again and laid bare; every admiring glance at a magazine given over to the reality of having Victor’s body gleaming with sweat under his, over his, around him. That instead of being a supplicant, compliant at Victor’s feet, he’s teaching him, dominating him, giving him something of himself that he _does_ take pride in. It’s exhilarating, and it seems Victor finds it as intoxicating as he does. He can’t lose that.

They’ll go to dinner. They’ll enjoy themselves. Yuuri will set Victor a fun little challenge, and he’ll pretend that he’d never once thought of Victor in any serious way until a month ago, and get to know the person he’s been having incredibly kinky sex with, by talking to him and going on dates like regular people do, and he’ll have two months of a fantasy life before Victor goes back to Russia, and maybe Yuuri will get a mysterious and cryptic mention in the acknowledgements of his book.

It will be fine.

Yuuri rolls over on his bed and stares at the ceiling, and his mind throws him a vision of saying goodbye to Victor in the airport before he leaves, and Yuuri’s eyes prickle.

There’s no way this will be fine.

But he’s doing it anyway.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he knows without a doubt he and Yuuri can be something spectacular.
> 
> But it all hinges on whether or not Yuuri will meet him halfway and allow the intimacy they’d begun to build last night to flourish. Victor is confident in his own planning, knows that as a practical matter his evening agenda will be fun and lighthearted and completely lacking in any pressure whatsoever. But will that be enough to convince Yuuri? Will he be enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to pursuitofnerdiness and A.N.D. for excellent review and beta services!

Victor stares at 26,816 words, highlights every last one of them, and presses delete. They flash and vanish from the screen as if they never existed, and the relief he feels is palpable.

Then he sighs and clicks “undo,” and they reappear again, all 26,816 of them.  It had felt good, even if it was just for a moment.  Instead of deleting months of work outright, however, Victor opens a new document, closes his eyes, and begins to type blind.

_ “Hand me that pen,” Mason says, glancing at the table next to his chair. Conner stares for a moment then gets up, walks over to the chair, picks up the pen and hands it over. Their fingers brush and it’s electric, the building charge of the last month culminating in a single bright spark. He’s been watching Mason play with others, and the coffee dates and drinks afterward to discuss it have been dancing around the one subject Conner knew he could never broach. But now he was being invited, seduced really, to try a little bit of this life for himself. _

Victor opens his eyes and reads what he’s just written, then deletes it wholesale.  _ Okay, just lay it all out there Victor, I mean, why have any restraint about telling everyone exactly what you’ve been doing the last month? No big deal, it’s not like the gossip rags won’t have a field day with that. _

He needs to be writing a different book, honestly, because the mystery he’s supposed to be writing is shifting into the guise of an erotic thriller. While his agent might be fine with it, he’s not sure he’s quite ready to be this transparent. 

_ Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a dark-haired, brown-eyed, beautiful boy. _

Victor rolls his eyes at himself, hits delete again, and closes his laptop. 

_ ………………………………………………………………………………………….. _

_ From Yuuri 11:46AM _

_ Where are we going tonight? _

_ Victor 11:47AM _

_ A restaurant! _

_ From Yuuri 11:47AM _

_ No kidding? Really? For dinner? I’d never have guessed. _

_ From Yuuri 11:48AM _

_ No seriously where are we going. _

_ Victor 11:50AM _

_ Restaurant. Then another place for a drink. Then maybe a walk? _

_ From Yuuri 11:52AM _

_ You. Are. Not. Helping. What am I supposed to wear?  _

_ Victor 11:53AM _

_ If I had my way, very little at all. _

_ From Yuuri 11:58AM _

_ Isn’t that my line? _

_ Victor 11:59AM _

_ Not today it isn’t. _

_ From Yuuri 12:01PM _

_ Sassy. Better watch that mouth, my beauty. I may need to find something to put in it on Friday. _

Victor flops back on his bed, torn between arousal and amusement. Yuuri, it seems, can adapt to flirting outside the playroom very well, indeed. He can’t  _ wait _ for tonight. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Victor fights down the nerves that have taken up residence in his stomach as the cab makes its way to Yuuri’s house. It’s almost 6pm and Victor keeps checking the time, strangely terrified that he’s early. Which is ridiculous as it isn’t Friday, this isn’t playtime, but he is most definitely taking Yuuri out on an actual date, away from the playroom, outside of the bounds of the arrangement they’d made.

Victor remembers the swoop of fear when he’d asked Yuuri to dinner tonight, the overwhelming elation he’d felt when Yuuri’s entire being had shifted, had shimmered like a mirage and gave Victor the tiniest sliver of what Victor suspects is a much deeper emotional investment than he’d ever admit.  Victor presses lightly on his neck, the ache of the bruise where Yuuri had marked him giving him a welcome shiver up his spine.  His lips still tingle with the memory of Yuuri’s kiss, hot and insistent and binding Victor to him more surely than any restraints ever could. 

Yes, he knows without a doubt he and Yuuri can be something  _ spectacular. _

But it all hinges on whether or not Yuuri will meet him halfway and allow the intimacy they’d begun to build last night to flourish. Victor is confident in his own planning, knows that as a practical matter his evening agenda will be fun and lighthearted and completely lacking in any pressure whatsoever. But will that be enough to convince Yuuri? Will  _ he _ be enough?

The cab stops and Victor is out like a shot, leaping up the steps to the front door and hitting the bell before his nerve fails him. He stands on the stoop, heel tapping a nervous rhythm as he waits. He stops stock still, however, when the locks snick open and the door swings wide, and Yuuri is there.

Victor can’t breathe.

Yuuri looks  _ beautiful _ . Not like he is in the playroom, not the dark, slightly dangerous sensuality of Victor’s Sir, but something bright and soft and engaging. His pale blue button up is slim, skimming against his sides. A dark blue flourish curls its way over his shoulder and down the front, highlighting the slope of his chest and the cinnamon brown of his eyes. His dark jeans are painted over his gorgeous, thick thighs and Victor can feel the flush on his neck when he imagines what his ass must look like. He also realizes he’s still staring and hasn’t said a word when Yuuri clears his throat and gives him a wry look.

“Hi,” he says pointedly, and it’s likely not the first time he’s said it. Victor mentally slaps himself.

“Hi. I’m sorry. I just…you look amazing,” he breathes, and Yuuri flushes too, a pretty pink blush that stains the tops of his cheeks and tips of his ears. Victor can’t believe he’s seeing it.

“Thank you. You do too.” They just look at each other, smiling like idiots, standing on the stoop in the evening sun until Yuuri finally looks away. “We should go, right?” Yuuri gestures to the still-waiting cab and Victor nods and ushers him down the stairs with his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back. 

“I’m glad you said six,” Yuuri says, as he settles himself in the back of the cab. “We really needed to be out of the way early tonight.”

Victor blinks. “Something the matter?”

“No, not at all Phichit has a few guests arriving at seven, that’s all. It’s a timing thing.” 

Victor nods, understanding. “Yes, I imagine so. “ He considers for a moment, and then asks, “Aren’t your neighbors a little…weirded out? They have to notice all of the visitors, right?” Victor glances up and catches the cabbie’s puzzled glance in the rear view mirror. He just raises his eyebrows and looks away.

Yuuri laughs. “Yes, well. The cops came to talk to us once. Someone had called in a complaint about drugs, but of course there wasn’t anything there. We just explained that we have friends over on the weekend and left it at that. They tend to ignore us, now.”

“I take it they didn’t check the basement?”

“What would they see if they had, though? Furniture and some cabinets? If we got rid of the cross we could put it on Zillow and no one would know.” Yuuri turns slightly toward him and shifts a small box in his hands. “Okay, you have to tell me where we’re going. You wouldn’t give me any clues when I texted you this morning.” He looks carefully at Victor’s own jeans and deep maroon shirt. “But I guessed okay, it seems?”

Victor nods. “Perfect.” He finally gives into temptation and reaches out to trace a finger over the dark blue pattern spilling over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Reminds me of a skating costume,” he murmurs. “It suits you.”

Yuuri blanches, then clears his throat. “Ah, thank you.” He carefully picks up Victor’s hand and turns it over, raises Victor’s wrist to his lips and touches the fine blue veins there. Victor’s heart stutters and goosebumps erupt down his arms. “But I’m nothing compared to you, my beauty,” he whispers, and Victor can see, just for a moment, a flash of Yuuri’s playroom persona simmering under the surface. 

It’s exciting and unsettling. Victor isn’t sure who he’s getting tonight. He thought he was getting Yuuri, not his master, but as Yuuri smiles and squeezes his hand, he realizes he may be getting both.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Do we really need a whole bottle of wine for just the two of us?” Yuuri asks, nose adorably wrinkled as he scans the list. “I mean, that’s quite a bit with just tapas.”

“Of course we do! I want the rioja, and they’re not offering it by the glass.” Victor looks at the tapas menu and starts mentally choosing a few different things. “Besides, I like it with manchego cheese, and we’re definitely getting that.” 

“Okay, as long as I get the croquettes.” Yuuri takes a sip of water, the candlelight glistening on his lower lip. Victor wants this to be as casual and relaxed as possible, but the memory of Yuuri’s mouth stretched around his cock flashes in his mind and he has to look away when Yuuri smirks at him. 

“I love the food scene here, but I still miss my mom’s cooking most,” Yuuri says, taking pity on Victor’s libido. “She makes the most amazing food for the Inn. No wonder I used to get so chubby at home.”

Victor’s ears perk up. “For the Inn? Is she a chef at a resort?”

“Hah, no, not exactly.  She cooks for guests at our hot springs inn, Yu-topia. They’ve been running it since before I was born. It’s been in the family for generations.” 

“Fascinating. And you weren’t drafted into continuing the tradition?” Victor asks as they’re interrupted by the waiter. Yuuri takes a deep breath and smiles as Victor orders the wine, then they take turns with their list of tapas. The waiter leaves and Victor smiles, encouraging Yuuri to pick up where they left off.

“Ah, no. I’m not good at dealing with the business side of it. My sister will take over when my parents no longer wish to continue. I’ll just support her in it if I need to.” Yuuri fiddles with his napkin and looks around the restaurant, the gold and maroon walls, paintings of Madrid and bullfighters and gardens covering most of the space. 

Victor wonders what’s making him uncomfortable. Maybe he shouldn’t ask about home. Maybe it’s stressful, or he has a bad relationship there. 

“I try not to mess too much with the business side of things myself,” Victor says, and looks over the wine when the waiter returns. He obligingly takes a sip, determines it’s acceptable, and gestures his approval to pour. “I’m hopeless with numbers, and frankly it’s boring as hell. I finally hired an accountant to deal with most of that for me.”

“Adding and subtracting six figures way over your head, then?” Yuuri teases, and Victor rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. I have lots of weird bills, okay? I had a Swarovski crystal budget once. It was a nightmare.”

Yuuri laughs, a true one, head tipped back and eyes crinkled shut. “Of course you did. I bet you were the sparkliest thing on the ice.” Yuuri finishes his first glass of wine and pours another, then rests his chin on his fist to grin at Victor.

“You laugh, but my last Olympic costume was over something like eighteen thousand U.S.”

“More like twenty,” Yuuri says, then his eyes get round. “I’m so sorry, that’s so awkward. I may have…I may have Googled. A little bit.”

Victor shrugs. “That’s okay. I fully expected you would have, once you told me you knew who I was.” 

Yuuri blushes so red Victor is worried he’s going to pass out. He folds his napkin in his lap and bows his head slightly. “Well, I mean. You were in the Olympics. It’s sort of hard to miss you.”

“Especially when I sparkle.”

Yuuri snorts. “Especially when you sparkle.” He lifts his eyes to meet Victor’s and he seems a bit more at ease. “What was it like?” he asks, voice slightly wistful. “Was it as amazing and wild as everyone says?”

Victor laughs and scoops up a piece of chorizo from the plate the waiter has surreptitiously slid onto the table. He pops it in his mouth and chews, considering.  “Well, yes and no. It’s a spectacle, absolutely. But I was twenty five when I went to Sochi, and I had experience, and it seemed much less overwhelming. Like I didn’t have to do everything at once this time.”

Yuuri slants him a knowing look. “But Vancouver? You weren’t quite twenty one, then, right?”

Victor laughs. “Yeah. Vancouver.” He wonders just how much he should tell him, but of all people, Yuuri would probably understand. “I had my first threesome there, the night after I won gold. I honestly don’t think I was sober for at least two days. Maybe longer.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widen in faux shock. “Scandalous! I’m surprised at you, Mr. Nikiforov.” He demurely looks up at Victor through his eyelashes. “I would have never guessed you were so adventurous.” 

Victor grins. “Indeed? I thought you’d know that by now,” he says, and takes a swallow of wine. “But what about you? You must have some wild stories.”

“None fit for here,” Yuuri says, and rearranges the plates so that the ham and chicken croquettes are closer to his side. Victor snatches one and gets a light smack on the hand. He giggles and eats it anyway, despite Yuuri’s pretty pout.  “I’ll tell you some later, when we’re alone.” Yuuri drags his fingers around the rim of his glass. “I know your list, and I know some things are on the soft limit,” he whispers. “So having a bit of an audience isn’t an issue?”

Victor smirks. Now they’re in interesting territory. “No, not really, under the right circumstances. I’d have to trust the people I’m with, so that pictures don’t end up splashed across the tabloids.”

Yuuri nods. “Good to know.”

“You seem like you’re planning something.” Victor is slightly suspicious, and a lot curious, and maybe a bit excited.  Yuuri doesn’t say anything, though, and bends down to retrieve the small box he’d been carrying from where he’d tucked it under the table, and slides it across to Victor. 

“I want you to take this to the bathroom and open it in private,” he says, voice low. “If you decide to wear it, bring me back my part. If you don’t, just bring me back the entire box. Would that be okay?” Yuuri’s eyes sparkle with mirth, and a devilish smirk graces his lips. Victor picks up the plain white box and tests the weight of it. It’s not heavy, it doesn’t rattle, and it’s not really big enough for anything particularly obnoxious. But it’s definitely something. He pushes away from the table and snakes his way between the other diners and toward the restrooms. 

When he pushes his way inside there’s no one else in there, and he immediately locks himself in a stall. He opens the box and there, nestled in white tissue paper is a small black plug, and next to that is a tiny remote control.  There’s even a tiny sachet of lube, and under it all is a note. Victor takes it out and reads:

_ For my beauty. A little fun if you desire it. If you ever wish to stop, simply say your safe word. _

Victor grins, completely flabbergasted but really turned on. This might be one of the most interesting dates he’s ever been on. He coats the plug with lube before carefully seating it inside of his body with a sharp hiss. It’s not particularly big, but its shape presses right against his prostate. The pressure makes him shiver but as he stands he realizes it’s not going to really interfere with walking or anything else. He tucks the note in his pocket along with the remote, and tosses the box in the trash.

He walks back out into the dining room and places the remote next to Yuuri’s glass before he sits down carefully.  Yuuri’s eyes blaze with heat.

“There are no rules,” he says. “This is just some fun between us. I don’t expect anything of you. Do you understand?”

Victor nods. It’s just a little silly, sexy game, without punishment or requirements. This is Yuuri being playful, in that delightful way that he has of being both incredibly shy and incredibly straightforward at the same time. When Victor realized he was getting both Yuuri and his master tonight, he didn’t realize just how intertwined those things could be.

Because this is Yuuri wondering just how far Victor will allow the intersection of Yuuri’s desires inside and outside the formality of the playroom. As Yuuri carefully pockets the remote and takes a sip of wine with a raised eyebrow, it seems Victor manages to pass the very first test.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Victor worried for a little while that, once they were outside of the shared interest that brought them together, conversation would falter. But as they finish up dinner and take care of the check, they’re still talking. About New York, about traveling, which Yuuri has done quite a bit of. About Yuuri’s years at school in Detroit. About St Petersburg, about Victor’s poodle, Makkachin, who passed away last year and whom he misses terribly. About Yuuri’s years training as a danseur, until he gave up full-time dancing for his university degree.

“I wondered where those thighs had come from,” Victor says, as the cab heads toward Brooklyn and their next stop. “I mean, I’ve seen some amazing legs on people before, and it takes significant dedication and work to get there. Now it makes sense.”

“Yes, well.” Yuuri sighs and looks out of the window. “I did work hard. I still dance, sometimes. Do some choreography, too.”

Victor brightens. “Really? That’s amazing! Who do you choreograph for? What sorts of shows? Can we go see one?” Victor slams his hand onto the seat as the cab hits a manhole cover and jolts the plug.  _ Fuck _ .

“Woah, hang on, it’s just for kids, Victor, seriously. It’s nothing important. And I only do it occasionally. I have an actual job, you know.” Yuuri notices the tension in his arm as he braces himself for another jolt, and just smirks at him, the bastard.

Victor tries to focus, to ignore the warm curl of pleasure creeping up his spine. “But I want to see. I bet it’s beautiful.” He can see it, now, the grace of Yuuri’s movements in the light of dance, the delicate arch of ballet in the bend in his spine when he stands over Victor in the playroom. He’s surprised he’d not noticed it before, honestly. He shakes his head at his complete lack of attention to detail and realizes they’re pulling up to their destination.

“Here we are,” he chirps, and pays the driver before Yuuri can even get out his wallet. “Oh, no. It’s starting to sprinkle.” He looks up at the sky, drops sparkling against the streetlights. “Come on, Yuuri, before it really rains.” He pulls him out of the cab and into the building, a huge glass conservatory glowing with light.

“Oh, I know this, it’s the butterfly garden!” Yuuri says, enchanted. “I’ve never managed to come here, though I’ve wanted to.” He looks around the lobby as Victor pulls up his email with his tickets. “I didn’t think it was open this late, though,” Yuuri says, and frowns.

“It’s a special event – Wine Flight,” he explains, and ushers Yuuri into the double doors that enter into the conservatory proper. “Wine and desserts and viewing the butterflies. I got incredibly lucky this was tonight, really.” They open the second set of doors and the air is immediately warmer, more humid, with the rich smell of soil and plants and water. He looks up and there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering near the ceiling, floating around the plants, or sitting and sipping up nectar from strategically placed plates full of fruit, flowers, and water. The rain has started to fall, running in streams down the glass in shimmering rivulets, giving the entire room a strange, otherworldly look. It’s perfect.

Yuuri is absolutely fascinated. He takes Victor’s hand with an excited grin and pulls him down the first path until they reach a branch populated with cobalt blue and black butterflies. His phone is in his hand immediately and he takes a few pictures, then observes them more closely.

“They’re so beautiful close up. Look, you can see every little hair, every feathery color.” 

Victor feels light, happy that his choice has gone over so well. “Can I get you something? Wine, or a dessert? Looks like they have cream puffs, or éclairs, or maybe some cookies.”

Yuuri bites his lip, hesitating. “I really shouldn’t,” he says, and frowns.

“When’s the last time you had dessert?” Victor asks, the echo of Yuuri’s use of the word “chubby” earlier in the evening bouncing around his head. “There’s nothing wrong with having dessert once in a while.”

Yuuri quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, I’d love an éclair. Please. And red wine. A cabernet, or Malbec. Thank you, Victor.”

Victor smiles and kisses his cheek before he almost skips over to join the line next to the table near the door. There are little screened domes over the desserts to keep the butterflies away, and the piles of cream puffs look delectable. Victor is next in line and considering his choices when the plug in his ass vibrates, just a little buzz, enough to startle him into turning around. 

To see Yuuri carefully examining the large white hibiscus flower nearby. 

Victor almost laughs. So that’s how he’s playing it, is it?

Victor carefully takes a breath and orders, ready for the buzz of the plug again, but Yuuri does do him the favor of not actually doing it while he’s talking to people. “Thank you,” he says to the woman at the table, and takes the wine in one hand and the single plate with their two desserts in the other, and makes his way back to Yuuri. 

“You’re smart to not make me drop these,” Victor murmurs. “Because I probably would have.”

Yuuri takes a sip of his wine. “Mmmm. Well, I’d hold on tightly to everything, if I were you,” he says, smug. He takes the éclair from the plate and takes a huge bite, a dollop of cream left on his nose, and the sight of it is so ridiculously at odds with the game they’re playing Victor can’t help but laugh. Yuuri flushes and goes to wipe it off, but Victor darts in and kisses it from his skin, sweet  and creamy.

“Delightful,” Victor says, fingers pressed against Yuuri’s jaw.

Yuuri’s eyes go wide, a play of false innocence that Victor barely registers before he feels it – an intense, undulating wave of pleasure centered on the plug in his ass. He gasps, the sound ruffling a small group of butterflies and sending them into flight.

“Shhhh, don’t want to make a scene, do we?” Yuuri purrs in his ear as Victor steadies himself by leaning on one of the pillars that hold up the roof. He can feel himself starting to grow hard, and he turns away from anyone else near them and frantically starts scanning the names of the plants in the conservatory until the toy stops.

“Oh, I’m going to get you back for this,” Victor says, breath heavy in his chest. “I don’t know how, but I am.” 

Yuuri giggles—honestly, this boy—and simply walks further down the path to admire a full blooming orchid teeming with shimmering cobalt butterflies, interspersed with a few yellow swallowtails and monarchs. Victor sucks in a breath and follows him, and the vibrations stop. Thank fuck. He can catch his breath and at least attempt a reasonable imitation of a man out on a normal date, not one simmering under his skin with unquenched desire.

“I thought I’d make a butterfly garden next spring,” Yuuri says, as if the hand not holding his wine isn’t wrapped around the instrument of Victor’s exquisite torture, hidden in his pocket. “Bees, too. A pollinator paradise.”

“Bees?” Victor says stupidly, earning him a bright, all-too-innocent smile. He can’t even think, much less focus on having actual conversation right at this moment.

“Yes. My mother has a flower garden at the Inn. I love it. I thought I could recreate a tiny piece of home.”

Ah, yes. Victor certainly understands that. “Where is home, exactly?” he asks, as his heart finally slows and he regains some small measure of control of himself. 

“A small seaside town in Japan. Hasetsu. There were many hot springs resorts there once, but ours is the only one left, so it’s a bit of a destination.”

“Yu-topia,” Victor says slowly. “Right?”

Yuuri nods. 

“I think I’d like to see it, someday,” Victor muses, and reaches out to carefully run a finger down the soft petals of an orchid. “If it produced something as lovely as you.”

“Flatterer,” Yuuri says, but the tips of his ears are pink.

“Truth,” Victor says, and turns toward him again, swaying close enough to smell his cologne, pick up his hand. He brushes a kiss across Yuuri’s knuckles, lingering a moment, his gaze never leaving Yuuri’s face.  

“I’m … not really used to this,” Yuuri says, and glances down at Victor’s hand wrapped around his own. “Is everything still okay?”

Victor puzzles, and then realizes Yuuri’s referring to their little game. He’s not accustomed to dating, wants to make sure he’s not crossed a line. “Absolutely perfect,” he says.

“Good,” Yuuri says, and slips away from him, only to sashay along a path that leads over a small bridge and a stream set into the plantings. His hips roll as he walks, and Victor’s dick twitches again watching him, wonders if he’ll ever get to feel those thighs wrapped around his hips. The vibrator buzzes to life again as Yuuri steps across the bridge, and Victor jumps.

“Unfair,” he calls after him. Yuuri just winks and beckons him to follow.

Victor shakes his head and darts after him, only to turn the corner and find Yuuri waiting for him in a little alcove completely surrounded by climbing vines interspersed with tall, feathery palm trees. It’s quiet and slightly private, and Yuuri settles on a bench near a small feeding station playing host to a single, bright yellow striped swallowtail.  He takes another prim sip of his wine and grins, one leg crossed over the other and bouncing slightly with amusement.

“Now. What was it you were saying?” Yuuri says, as Victor stares down at him. 

“Oh, you—” Victor gets out before the toy starts again, a sharp buzz this time, one that doesn’t relent and Victor bites his lip to hold back a moan.  It’s pressing hard against his prostate, and he’s sure he’s leaving a wet spot on the front of his jeans.  Yuuri just smirks at him, eyes sparkling, and Victor wants nothing more than to leave him as breathless and turned on as he is. So he braces his hands on the back of the bench on either side of Yuuri’s head and bends forward until he can nudge their mouths together into a whisper of a kiss, a delicate brush of lips and teasing breaths until Victor whimpers. He’s almost to the point of over stimulation, and his hands are beginning to shake. Yuuri must understand because the toy switches off again. 

“I want you,” Victor breathes against Yuuri’s cheek. “You’re driving me  _ insane _ .”

Yuuri turns his head and tugs on Victor’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Then let’s get out of here.” 

…………………………………………………………………………………

The rain has moved off when they step outside, the pavement shimmering wet and the air heavy with humidity. There’s a tiny bit of a breeze that ruffles Victor’s fringe, and the cooler air that’s come after the rain soothes his heated skin.

Yuuri walks next to him and darts sly little glances every so often, glances that hold the promise of something more after they reach…well. Home, Victor supposes, but they’ve not yet flagged down a cab to decide. Now that they’re out on the sidewalk, soaking up the feel of the city, Victor feels content for the moment to walk alongside him, drag out the anticipation that had wound taut in the heat of the conservatory. He reaches out and tangles their fingers together, earning him a smile.

“I feel like we’re taking this just a bit backwards,” Victor muses as they walk. “I mean, we’ve already, well.” Victor feels oddly shy talking about it in the open like this, but. “But I’m just now holding your hand.”

“Honestly, it feels more intimate to do this,” Yuuri says. “It carries a lot of weight, of symbolism. Like kissing.” Yuuri stops, pulls Victor to a halt with him. “And I like to save some things to share only with people I really care about.”

Victor’s chest feels slightly constricted. “I’m really happy to hear that,” he finally says, and leans in to kiss Yuuri’s cheek. “And I’m honored.”

Yuuri just smiles and begins walking again. Victor follows, wondering where they’re heading, if anywhere. “There’s so much more we should talk about,” Yuuri says  quietly. “I mean, we’re still really getting to know each other. There’s a lot I’ve not —“

Yuuri is interrupted by the flare of a trumpet from the small open square they’re passing, a trio of guitar, trumpet, and bass set up and rising to life after the rain. A few people have stopped to watch, and the slow, sensual beat of a tango swirls around them in the night air. Yuuri stops and watches, then turns to Victor with a grin, all previous conversation forgotten.

“Do you dance?” he demands.

“Well, um. A little, I mean, yes, but I’ve not—“

Yuuri grabs his hand and pulls him into the square, draws him up straight against his body where it’s held in a perfect frame. “I lead,” he says, and his hand settles on the small of Victor’s back and pushes his posture into the familiar arch he’s known for years on the ice. 

The musicians stare with wide eyes as Yuuri leads Victor across the square in the slow, sensual step of the tango, Victor falling into the sensuality of Yuuri’s steps drawing over and around his own, the flare of Yuuri’s movements pushing them together from chest to hips as they dance. He barely remembers the lessons under Madame Baranovskaya, her emphasis on ballet barely influenced by Yakov’s insistence his skaters learn other types of dance, but the attention he did give his lessons pays off as Yuuri presses lightly on his hip and raises his eyebrows, and Victor spins around his body in a perfect  _ boleo _ .

They’re attracting a little crowd, now, claps and whistles punctuating every step. Yuuri looks like he’s having the time of his life, and when Victor falls into him, his weight supported on Yuuri’s chest and one leg hooked over Yuuri’s hip so Yuuri can pull him forward in an  _ arrastre _ , the crowd goes wild and Yuuri tilts his head until they’re a breath away from kissing, right there on the street, in the middle of New York City on a wet, humid night under a full moon. 

It’s likely the most perfect thing Victor’s ever experienced. 

The song ends with Victor wrapped around Yuuri’s body, their cheeks pressed together, chests heaving and sweat beginning to shimmer on their skin. Victor’s arousal is back full force, and he can feel Yuuri’s cock pressing into his hip.

“Come with me,” Yuuri growls, and drags Victor down the street after dropping some cash into the musicians’ guitar case. 

“We can get a cab,” Victor protests, and then Yuuri yanks him into one of those dark, narrow, barely lit alleys New York has in abundance. Victor hits the brick side of the building with a thump and then Yuuri is on him, ravenously kissing his neck and trying to get Victor’s belt undone. Victor gasps and helps him, pushes his pants and underwear out of the way until Yuuri gets his hand on his cock and Victor can’t stifle a shout.

“Quiet,” Yuuri hisses, and tugs down his own pants until his cock is free, then he leans into Victor’s body and gets his hand around both of them. Victor gulps down another hiss and tilts his head onto Yuuri’s shoulder. Their shirt tails are barely enough to cover them, but it’s obvious to anyone with half a brain what they’re doing there, hiding in the dark shadow of a building and entwined as they are.

“Fuck, I can’t wait,” Yuuri says, stroking them together with a rough hand. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy, Victor.” Yuuri drags Victor’s collar to the side and presses a kiss to the bruise on his neck, and Victor’s knees threaten to go out from under him.

“Oh god, Yuuri. Harder, damn it.  _ Harder _ .” 

“Yes,” Yuuri growls, grips them harder and begins to rock his hips. It’s too dry like this, too rough, but the friction and pressure of Yuuri’s hand, his cock, his lips, has Victor caught in a riptide of pleasure he doesn’t want to escape from, and in the blink of an eye his orgasm rises like the tide and overtakes him with an openmouthed cry.

“Fuck, fuck, shhhh, Victor, shhh,” Yuuri says, voice shuddering with passion. “I’m close, my beauty, I’m so close. Kiss me.  _ Please _ .”

Jesus Christ, Yuuri is begging him.  _ Begging him _ .  Victor grips the sides of his face and kisses him with everything he has, rocking his hips into the now-slick fist still wrapped around his spent cock, fucking against Yuuri’s body until Yuuri himself comes with a start and a shudder.

They come down, bodies slick with cooling sweat and the remnants of come, Yuuri’s forehead pressed into Victor’s shoulder and breath coming hot and heavy and leaving a humid patch on his shirt. Yuuri rolls his head to the side a bit and giggles into Victor’s neck.

Victor has never been happier in his entire life.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

“I had a really great night,” Yuuri says, shy smile peeking out from under his tipped-down fringe.

Victor reaches out to cup his cheek and lifts his face enough he can brush a gentle kiss across his lips. Yuuri sighs, and Victor pulls him in for a hug. “I did too. Thank you for giving me the chance.”

Yuuri smiles, glances down at Victor’s chest, then takes a deep breath and pins Victor with a wide-open look, one that’s slightly timid, maybe even nervous. “Will I see you Friday?” he asks.

Oh. Now Victor understands.

“Yuuri, I told you. Inside and outside the playroom. I want to know you, in every way I can.” Victor wonders just how much he should reveal, how much he should confess in his quest to give Yuuri the assurance he needs. “I’ve never found anyone so fascinating, Yuuri,” he murmurs against his forehead. “I love everything we do together.”

“Me too,” Yuuri says, and tilts his head back for one last, leisurely kiss, one that could so easily lead to another round right there on the step if Victor isn’t careful. But they break apart with stupid matching grins, and Victor just watches as Yuuri unlocks the front door, waves, and goes inside.

Victor waits a beat before doing a ridiculous victory dance on the landing, fist pumping and turning in circles. He jumps off the step and reaches the cab in three strides to find the cabbie laughing at him.

“Good work, my man,” the cabbie says, and gives Victor a fist bump through the partition. Victor settles in the seat and gives him his address, and replays their night over, and over, and over.

He thinks he could love Yuuri. He really does. And wouldn’t that wreak havoc on his life? He’d have to move, come to New York permanently, get an apartment and everything.  Yes, it would be completely bonkers but Yuuri could be worth it. 

And if he realizes an hour later as he tries to sink into sleep that he didn’t learn Yuuri’s last name, it doesn’t bother him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The joke about putting pics of the basement on zillow is based in my real life: the pro Dominatrix who lives across the alley from me just put her house on the market, and like the creeps we are, the entire neighborhood looked at the listing. 
> 
> There are no pics of the basement. 
> 
> Want to watch two men dance the Tango? Here you go. https://youtu.be/onynuHmBUmQ
> 
> The original video that inspired me I saw years ago, but Victor and Yuuri aren't that good: https://youtu.be/-6-6kN79oIA


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns back to Victor, and can’t help but bend and take Victor’s mouth with his own in a deep, slow, wet kiss, one that marks his possession of this man, one that makes Victor’s spine melt and needy little hums erupt in his throat. Yuuri pulls away with a smile, only to see Victor still there with eyes closed and lips parted, stunned, until he darts his tongue out and licks his bottom lip.
> 
> “Thank you,” he rasps.
> 
> He needed that reassurance, and Yuuri did too. The shift in their relationship still feels like a tangible thing, a bright spark in Yuuri’s chest that’s almost too much to bear, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Pursuitofnerdiness and A.N.D. for their thorough and meticulous review! <3

Yuuri leans into a spread eagle that takes him sweeping across the ice, the shush of his blades echoing off the boards and bouncing around the quiet of Sky Rink, completely vacant at twenty minutes past closing on Monday night.

There are advantages to being one of the local club choreographers, and having the space to skate through the twisting emotions of the last few days has never been more critical than it is right now. 

He takes the momentum of the spread eagle and swirls into a spin, arms above his head and the cool, ozone-scented air whips past his face, a sweet, familiar kiss from his first true love. God, he misses it some days, the freedom that came with pushing his body to perform, the drive and passion and artistic demand of skating leaving him on an adrenaline high like nothing Yuuri’s experienced since.

And oh, how he’s tried. Over, and over, and over again, with different people and different experiences, pushing himself further than even he expected he would into the world Minako opened up for him. 

The closest he’s come to recapturing that high, that crackling, all-consuming energy has been the last month with Victor, and he’s not sure if that’s the sex, Victor himself, or everything that Victor represents.  Could be all of that, he thinks.

He skates over to the boards and pulls a mouthful of water from his water bottle and lets his heart rate slow down just a bit as he thinks about Saturday.

Saturday, when Victor had been sweet and fun and willing, ready to go along with whatever silly games Yuuri had come up with, completely lacking in artifice or pretension or ego.  He was thoughtful, and attentive, and kind, too: backing off immediately when he sensed Yuuri’s slight awkwardness talking about Hasetsu and his family. He’s never pushed Yuuri farther than he was truly comfortable with.

Which is why Yuuri knows that the Victor he talked to on Saturday, the one who danced with him, who kissed him with such tender passion,  _ that _ Victor would never judge Yuuri for his mistakes, never look down on him for his failures. The Victor who has given Yuuri his body and heart to hold in trust, who slips to his knees and looks at Yuuri like the sun rises and sets in his eyes—that Victor will understand. 

He’s going to tell him. As soon as he can.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

That moment doesn’t come  _ very _ soon, though, as Yuuri gets caught up in planning for Friday and a scene much more complicated than anything they’ve tried yet. Arranging for suspension bondage takes thoughtfulness, organization, and step-by-step planning, and one, very important addition: a monitor.

_ 7:45pm _

_ For the scene Friday we need a monitor. Phichit will be there. He will watch, keep us safe. He will not touch you except to prevent injury. Will that be ok? _

 

_ Victor 7:57pm _

_ What the hell are you planning? Should I be scared? _

_ 7:58pm _

_ Not unless you’re afraid of me fucking you stupid, I suppose. _

_ Victor 8:00pm _

_!!!!!! _

_ 8:01pm _

_ Really, though. Nothing to be afraid of, it’s a precaution. Suspension. I’m not doing anything really complex, but it is your first time.  _

_ 8:02pm _

_ I want you to experience it at least once before you go in August.    _

_ 8:06pm _

_ Victor? _

_ Victor 8:06pm _

_ Chris says to ask Phichit to do the roses. Wtf? _

Yuuri sighs. Chris never would stop going on about that. He’s as bad as Phichit when it comes to over-the-top aesthetics.

_ 8:07pm _

_ Tell Chris if he wants roses he can do it himself.  _

_ Victor 8:08pm _

_ Chris says he’ll come with me and show me how it’s done. _

_ Victor 8:09pm _

_ I told him to back off my master or I’d tie him to his bedposts. I’m concerned with the look I got. _

Yuuri blinks. His master?  _ His _ ? And Victor would then, necessarily, be Yuuri’s. Yuuri’s sub. And Yuuri’s … what else? 

 

_ 8:11pm _

_ Yeah that probably wasn’t the best way to lower his interest, lol. But is it ok, Friday? _

_ Victor 8:12pm _

_ Of course. _

_ 8:13pm _

_ Stretch well, drink plenty of water, eat lightly. No heavy carbs. No alcohol.  _

_ Victor 8:17 _

_ Yes, coach. I mean, yes, sir. ;) _

_ 8:19pm _

_ Sassy mouths get filled, my beauty.  _

_ Victor 8:20pm _

_ Counting on it. _

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Yuuri trundles through the rest of the week in a daze, his mind barely on his work as he thinks of one thing and one thing only: Victor, wrapped in red silk ropes, positioned perfectly and suspended, helpless, for Yuuri’s pleasure.

Jesus. He’s jerked off too many times to count this week, so his stamina better be there when it counts. He wants to make this last.

But he’s worried, nervous, and that nervousness translates into chewing around the skin of his thumb at five minutes until seven on Friday, sitting behind the sliding panel doors with Phichit looking down at him with a scowl.

“Knock it off,” he says, and slaps Yuuri’s hand. “You’ll tear a nail and regret it.”

“Fuck off,” he says, and punches Phichit in the thigh.

“Fuck off yourself,” Phichit says, and punches back, nailing him in the shoulder.

“Ow, god, you better not have left a bruise.”

“Baby.” Phichit pats the top of his head. “What are you so nervous about? You’ve done nothing but practice all week. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there. He’ll love it. You’ve got to calm down, though.”

Yuuri swallows and nods. He does need to get himself under control, because he’ll be useless to Victor otherwise. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. And another. And then the front door opens and he and Phichit look at each other silently for a beat until the steps retreat to the back of the hall and down the stairs to the playroom.

“I still can’t believe you do this punctuality shit,” Phichit whispers, as they wait a couple of minutes to head down themselves. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s because you’re soft,” Yuuri says and slowly slides open the doors. “You’d let your subs walk all over you if they’d only just let you tie them up first.”

“Stop kinkshaming me,” Phichit whines.  

They make their way down the stairs to the basement, and Yuuri puts up a hand to quiet Phichit and checks the time. 7:04pm. “Okay, remember, no touching. And no flair. Don’t even  _ suggest  _ flair.”

Phichit sticks out his tongue. Yuuri rolls his eyes then takes a deep breath, and opens the door and looks inside.

Every time. Victor’s perfection as he waits hits Yuuri in the gut every single time. It’s the soft fall of his hair in the low lights, the line of his shoulders as he kneels. The patient softness of his submission, given to Yuuri with grace. 

He can hear Phichit’s quick intake of breath behind him, and he feels a rush of pride. Phichit is impressed and Yuuri can’t help but be smug as he walks toward Victor and places his fingers at the nape of his neck and draws them with exaggerated slowness down to the bare, inviting curve of his ass. Any nervousness he might have felt bleeds away with that one, perfect gesture, their connection reestablished.

Yuuri places his lips at the nape of Victor’s neck. “Good evening, my beauty,” he whispers against his skin. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Victor smiles and dips his head, goosebumps erupting over his shoulders. “It’s been a long week without you, sir.”

“You remember Phichit, don’t you?” Yuuri gestures toward Phichit, still standing in the doorway, waiting. “Is it still okay for him to be here, to keep us safe?”

“Yes, sir.”  Victor looks at Phichit and smiles. “Thank you, Phichit.”

Yuuri nods, and Phichit moves over to the chair they’ve placed near the open corner of the playroom. He sits quietly and crosses his legs, and Yuuri pointedly ignores his raised eyebrow.

He turns back to Victor, and can’t help but bend and take Victor’s mouth with his own in a deep, slow, wet kiss, one that marks his possession of this man, one that makes Victor’s spine melt and needy little hums erupt in his throat. Yuuri pulls away with a smile, only to see Victor still there with eyes closed and lips parted, stunned, until he darts his tongue out and licks his bottom lip.

“Thank you,” he rasps.

He needed that reassurance, and Yuuri did too. The shift in their relationship still feels like a tangible thing, a bright spark in Yuuri’s chest that’s almost too much to bear, sometimes.

Yuuri cups his cheek. “Victor, before we start, I want you to come with me, okay?” Yuuri takes Victor’s hand and helps him rise, and leads him to where he and Phichit have already secured a hanging steel ring from a large eyebolt attached to a floor joist above. “I want you to look at this closely.”

Victor nods. “I think I sort of know what I’m looking at?”

“It’s a hardpoint, the part of the rigging that won’t move. This is the part that will bear all of your weight when we get you off of your feet, or off of the floor. I want you to look at it closely, and notice that it’s a closed eyebolt, you can see that it’s locked down with a bolt that goes all the way through the floor joist, and everything is new or well maintained.”

Victor’s brow furrows. “Okay. That’s good, then?”

“Yes. And should you ever decide to do this with someone else—“

“I won’t,” he says, with a frown, and steps closer to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s stomach swoops. “Ah, well. If you did, before you ever do a suspension scene, your Dom should make you look this rigging over. If you have any doubts about it at all, don’t do the scene. People can get hurt if it’s not taken seriously. Phichit takes this extremely seriously, as do I. But this is most definitely his area of expertise.”

Victor nods. He looks puzzled but interested, and Yuuri doesn’t want to scare him with tales of things gone horribly wrong, so he just steers him to stand on the rubber matting under the hardpoint and goes to his cabinet.

“I bought you a little present,” he says, and turns back to Victor with a black box he plucked from a shelf inside. He hands it over and watches, smiling, as Victor opens the lid.

“Oh, Yuuri, these are wonderful!” Victor pulls out one of the gold magnetic nipple clamps and examines it, the rhinestone on the end glinting in the playroom lights.  “Sparkly,” he says with a wink. “Should we put them on?”

Yuuri comes over and takes the other one out of the box and the one from Victor’s hand and puts them in his pocket. “No, not yet. They’re a bit strong, so later, after we’re ready, okay?”  Victor looks disappointed so Yuuri presses a sweet kiss to his lips. Victor hums and leans into him, and Yuuri can’t resist wrapping his arms around Victor’s waist and pulling them together. He’s got a black sleeveless tshirt on tonight with his black skinny pants, and he misses the feeling of Victor’s skin against his. He drags his lips over Victor’s shoulder and reminds himself that his patience will pay off later. But for now—

“Did you stretch like I asked?” he says.

“Yes, sir. I stretched most of the week, and today I got to your neighborhood early and did a few things in the park across the street.” Victor says this primly, without any shame whatsoever, as if stretching into splits or catching his foot behind his head in a modified arabesque is what everyone in New York does on the street on a normal Friday night. 

Yuuri laughs. “Very good. Remind Phichit of your safeword, please.”

“Salchow,” Victor says obediently, and Yuuri almost dies on the spot. Phichit is going to give him  _ so much shit _ for this.

But in the moment, because he knows how important it is, Phichit simply repeats him. “Salchow. Got it.”

Yuuri smiles at Victor. “Are you ready, my beauty?” he asks.

“Never more ready, sir,” Victor says, and his voice is slightly breathless, soft in the way he gets when he’s starting to feel arousal thrumming under his skin. Oh, this will be beautiful.

“Then let’s begin.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t find bondage in this style particularly appealing; he absolutely does. The patterning of rope knotted across someone’s skin is such a beautifully visual cue to the sorts of things they enjoyed that Yuuri couldn’t help but respond to it. But he much prefers the quick action of a pair of leather cuffs, or a simple binding of the wrists, to leave his partner helpless and wanting.

But in this case, when his partner needed to taught patience, the long-drawn out process of kinbaku bondage was invaluable. He knew Victor could draw on an endless well of strength and self-determination; but to wait, to push him to check out of himself and just feel, well. Yuuri wanted to give him that more than anything, a rest after a lifetime of an overworked mind and body. 

He has Victor stand almost directly under the hardpoint, feet apart and double checks he’s not locking his knees. He picks up his first set of ropes, and the silk slips through his fingers without a snag. He wraps the ropes around each other and across Victor’s chest, then around to his back, looping them together and across Victor’s body until there is a web of diamonds down Victor’s chest that will support him. Victor gives him heated looks from under his eyelashes as he works, and it makes Yuuri wonder, as they regard each other soft stillness of the playroom, if Victor is remembering their date Saturday night and its spectacular, crashing finish. Yuuri is, and each glimpse he gets of Victor’s body, of the hard and straining line of his dick, the shadow of muscle across his back, transports him to a dark and dingy alleyway and the taste of Victor’s skin under his mouth.

Yuuri tucks his fingers under the ropes and catches Victor’s warm glance. Each brush of his fingers now carries the weight of expectation, the expression of everything they can be together. Yuuri can feel the burn of arousal and affection under his skin as he drags that touch up and over Victor’s hips, the dip of his spine. Victor has charmed his way through all of Yuuri’s defenses, and the ropes he’s crossed over Victor’s chest could just as well be over his own heart.

“You’re doing so well, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and looks into Victor’s eyes. He’s smiling, and he twists slightly to get a good look down his body at Yuuri’s handiwork.

“I’d like a photo, if I may,” he says, hesitantly. “I’d like to see better, later.”

Yuuri nods at Phichit, who gets the hint and grabs Yuuri’s phone from the inside of his cabinet and unlocks it. “Want me to wait until—“

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “I’m not finished.”

Victor tilts his head, puzzled, and Yuuri takes another length of rope and wraps it around the delicate skin and fine bones of his wrists. It’s too early to tie his arms behind him, to put the stress on his chest and shoulders that would come from such a position, until he’s more experienced. Yuuri lifts his bound hands and kisses them.

“It’s almost time,” Yuuri says, and watches Victor’s breathing pick up. “Color?”

“Green,” Victor replies, and glances at the ring in the ceiling. 

Yuuri positions him carefully under the ring and attaches the four weight-bearing ropes he’d knotted into the four corners of his back – shoulders and hips— to a large carabiner that he then clips into the ring. Phichit moves, then, toward the hoist pulleys attached to the wall.

Yuuri kisses him once more, and joins Phichit at the hoist.

“Ready?” he asks Phichit. Really, he could lift Victor alone, but having two sets of hands on the ropes helps prevent a slip, and Yuuri isn’t going to gamble with this body, in particular. They pull until Victor is lifted from the floor enough that just the very tips of his toes are able to touch, and he stands there, faced with a conundrum of holding his weight on his toes or trusting the ropes to hold him. Yuuri watches, heart hammering, as he decides. Victor stands for a moment, perfectly balanced, and then slowly sinks slightly forward and down into the rope webbing, trusting in not just the ropes, but in Yuuri’s skill, to keep him safely held.

“Beautiful,” Yuuri says. He admires the long, lean form of Victor’s body set at an upward angle, head higher than his ass, legs hanging freely with toes barely brushing the mat, his body held in a cradle wrapped around his torso. “Give me your left leg, please,” Yuuri says.

Victor puzzles over that a moment, and then with a wicked grin straightens his hands out in front of him and arches himself into a perfect, mid-air arabesque, left leg extended, the muscles of his body in stark relief. His toes aren’t pointed, no, not like Yuuri’s are at the barre, but held at the angle Yuuri knows instinctively means he’s feeling the hold of a skating boot around his ankle. Yuuri can barely breathe.

He hears the shutter of his phone go off behind him. He doesn’t even flinch. Victor has caught him in that vivid blue gaze, and he knows this particular performance has been devised just for him.

He can’t help, then, to catch Victor’s chin in his hand and crush his mouth to his, force his lips apart and lick into the welcoming heat. Victor whimpers slightly at Yuuri’s hard hand on his jaw, the bruising impact of his kiss, and the sound only ramps up Yuuri’s arousal a hundredfold, his cock growing hard against the fly of his pants.

“You fucking tease,” Yuuri says. “You know how beautiful you are, don’t you.”

“Yes,” Victor says, and the rest of his sentence feels unsaid, a secret smile playing around his lips. 

Yuuri can feel the awareness of that smile tingling over his scalp and down his back. He releases Victor’s jaw and moves behind him and takes that maddeningly long, gorgeous leg and folds it up toward his chest, before looping a length of rope around it to hold it there, slightly spread and to the side. He has no intention of binding Victor’s repaired knee right now, not when he’s unsure of the limits of his endurance, but just the one will be fine for what he wants today. 

Yuuri pulls the nipple clamps from his pocket. “I think it’s time for these, don’t you?”

“Is it?” Victor says, and bats his eyelashes. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

Yuuri laughs and brushes a kiss across Victor’s forehead. “Never, my beauty.” Yuuri reaches for Victor’s nipple and twists gently, rolling the nub of it between his fingers. Victor reacts with a sharp gasp and a shiver that leave the harness swaying slightly. Yuuri separates the magnets that make up the clamp and carefully slips one over each of Victor’s nipples. The gold and rhinestones are beautiful against his skin, his nipples beginning to turn slightly puffy and red.  Yuuri flicks his finger across one and Victor moans.

“These are really intense,” he says. “Thank you, sir. I really like them.” 

“Good. I’ve got one more thing I’d like to do.” Yuuri retrieves a length of soft, black cloth from a nearby table, gently places it over Victor’s eyes and ties it behind his head. 

“Yellow,” Victor says without prompting, tilting his head.

Yuuri stops and places one hand on Victor’s shoulder.  “Should I take it off?”

There’s a pause, and Yuuri’s heart is in his throat. 

“No,” Victor says. “I got very nervous for a minute, but it’s passed now.”

Yuuri smooths his hands over the blindfold and presses a kiss to the corner of Victor’s mouth. “Thank you for trusting me, my beauty,” he whispers. “You look so incredibly gorgeous. I can’t wait to touch you.”

“Me, too,” Victor says, and then tucks his hands up under his chin and settles himself slightly with a shift in his shoulders, and Yuuri can see, then, his body give up its tension, the way he sinks into the sensation. Yuuri knows he’s likely trying to absorb everything right now: the cut of the ropes into his skin, the over-bright sounds from being blindfolded, the burn in his muscles from the forced positioning of his body. 

He nods to Phichit, who gets back into position next to the hoist, a pair of safety shears nearby. 

Yuuri can’t seem to turn away to go to the cabinet for his flogger, and he instead runs his hand from the top of Victor’s shoulder, down his side, and over the curve of his ass. He remembers what it was like to be buried to the hilt between those muscular curves, the sweet taste of his skin. Victor’s not wearing his plug today, but when Yuuri slides his fingers over the meat of his ass and into the crease, ever so slightly spread from the position of his legs, he finds his hole slightly soft and a little bit wet, and the little smile he gave earlier suddenly makes sense

“Oh, you clever boy,” Yuuri breathes, and Victor snickers. 

“I wanted to be ready for anything,” he says, smiling under his blindfold.

Yuuri gives him a smack on the ass, nothing hard, but the impact makes Victor suck in a breath and he swings forward slightly before coming back to rest against Yuuri’s hand. The warm skin against his palm has Yuuri dropping his plans for his flogger and he raises his hand and spanks him again, this time on the other side.  Victor’s breath comes a bit faster now, and Yuuri watches him carefully, not wanting him to fight too much against the strain of the rope.

“My gorgeous boy,” Yuuri coos, and the sound of hand meeting skin echoes from the ceiling. Victor makes a choked sound, almost a gasp, but then drops his chin to his chest on a deep exhalation.  His skin is starting to turn a beautiful shade of red, and Yuuri gives him three more blows on each side of his ass, before drawing his nails over the highly sensitized skin. “You should see how wide Phichit’s eyes are right now,” he whispers. 

“Ah, fuck,” Victor spits, sharp and needy, and Yuuri knows he’s on the right track. He grabs a quick pump of lube and draws his slick fingers down the crease of Victor’s ass, and rests them right over his hole, Victor’s cock hanging heavy and dark and very hard.

“You know, I think you might like that he’s watching you, don’t you?” Yuuri traces small circles around Victor’s rim and still doesn’t push in, despite Victor’s useless, squirming attempts to drive himself back. “And I know for a fact he likes what he’s seeing. But he can’t touch you, my beauty. You’re mine.” 

Victor groans. “Yes,” he says, “Yours. Please, sir. Make me yours. Only yours.”

Yuuri can’t see Victor’s face, can’t see his expression and he’s thankful that Victor can’t see his own, because that declaration has his mind scattering in ten different directions at once, but all circling back to Victor, tied up and begging for Yuuri to claim him. He shoots a glance over his shoulder and Phichit is still standing vigilant, but blinking in surprise at what he’s just heard. Yuuri can see Phichit’s hard in his jeans, too, and Yuuri really needs to get his mind back in the game. 

He turns his attention back to Victor’s body, wide open and begging for his touch, and without any warning he pushes two fingers against Victor’s rim and in up to the first knuckle. He’s fairly yielding, and it’s not a difficult stretch for him, but Victor gasps nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,” he gasps. “So glad I prepared,  _ holy shit _ .” Yuuri slips them out and then pushes back in, deeper this time, his other hand on Victor’s trussed-up leg. “Oh, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. _ ” Yuuri watches with satisfaction as goosebumps erupt all down his body. He’s reaching the point of sensory saturation, and if Yuuri just moves his fingers a little bit deeper…

Victor yelps when Yuuri finds his prostate, and falls into a breathy chant of “ah, ah, ah” as Yuuri slowly, carefully, begins to massage him with deft strokes. His cock is beading at the tip, a heavy drop of pre-come that looks ready to fall at any moment.

“I want you to come like this,” Yuuri says. “From my fingers.”

“I don’t know if I…I don’t…” Victor stutters out, and then writhes on Yuuri’s hand.

“You can. I’ve seen you almost do it, so do. Let go, Victor. Let me pleasure you.” Yuuri reaches up and flicks one of the nipple clamps and Victor wails, clenching down hard on Yuuri’s fingers. Yes, that’s going to do it. He glances back and Phichit is palming himself, but still has a hand on the rope. This has to be timed really well, but he thinks he can manage it. He rubs a thumb along Victor’s rim at the same time he starts thrusting his fingers in earnest, and Victor shakes his head, moaning.

“I don’t know, I…I’m …I can feel…”

“Yes, Victor,” Yuuri hisses, and bends forward to nip at Victor’s ass. “Let it go for me, lovely. Let it go.”

Victor sucks in a breath and then shudders and comes, body jerking against the restraints and breath heavy in his chest. Yuuri waits until he’s done, then snags the blindfold from Victor’s face and darts for the hoist, and he and Phichit carefully, slowly, lower him until his foot touches the floor. 

“Don’t stand,” Yuuri says. “I’m going to come get you. Okay, Phichit, you have it?” Phichit nods and Yuuri goes back and slips his hands under Victor’s armpits, holding his weight against his chest as Phichit loosens the rest of the tension from the hoist. Yuuri slowly sinks to the floor with Victor in his arms, Victor’s blue eyes blinking at him, dazed.

“Oh my God,” he whispers.

Yuuri makes quick work of removing the ropes from his body, then gathers Victor up into his lap and kisses his cheek. Phichit watches him with liquid eyes, fists clenching, and Yuuri nods to him with a smile. He strides off across the playroom and ducks out quickly, closing the door without a sound. Yuuri briefly wonders if he’ll manage to make it upstairs before he jerks himself off. 

“Oh, you were so good, beautiful. You did so, so well. I’m so proud of you,” Yuuri says and gently slides him off of his lap and onto the mats so he can stretch out his legs. Victor’s head is pillowed on one thigh, his body stretching long and lean between the vee of Yuuri’s legs. Yuuri stretches back, unbuttons his fly and finally releases his aching cock with a sigh. Victor’s eyes go wide and he licks his lips. He starts to push himself up on one elbow, but Yuuri stops him. 

“No, baby. You’re too worn out. I’ll take care of it.” Yuuri takes his cock in hand, the arousal he’d been trying to keep under control for the last hour finally given room to run. He strokes himself a few times and lets the sensation wash over him, Victor here in his lap, the high of a well-executed session simmering under his skin. He drags his fingertips over the head and pinches it lightly, the pressure a jolt in his stomach. 

“Please,” Victor whispers, avidly watching Yuuri’s stroking hand from less than a foot away. “Please use me. I’m yours.” He licks his lip again and leans forward enough to lip at Yuuri’s shaft, nuzzle his way into the crease of his groin, and Yuuri finds it impossible to refuse him.  His begging to be owned, to be Yuuri’s, is clawing its way into his heart and holding there, and he’s unable to resist much longer.

“Then open your mouth, my beauty,” he whispers and slips inside, fucking himself against the heat of Victor’s tongue, his eyes vivid and deep in the low light, platinum hair shining. Yuuri only lasts a dozen shallow thrusts before he comes, hot and messy, over Victor’s tongue and lips and chin. Victor smiles, then, and sighs happily before snuggling down on Yuuri’s thigh, marked thoroughly and well.

Yuuri cards a hand through Victor’s hair as he catches his breath, and has a startling, strangely vivid vision of this same scene, but this time with a collar wrapped around Victor’s slender throat.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“I’m too sleepy for a bath,” Victor pouts, as they make their way into the bathroom. “I just want to wash my face and sleep for ten years.”

“You’re covered in sweat. I think you’ll feel better if you at least shower.”

“Fine, fine.” Victor yawns and lets Yuuri herd him into the shower. Yuuri turns the rainfall showerhead on and soaks them both, and watches Victor carefully so he doesn’t pass out. He quickly washes Victor’s hair and face and scrubs his body down as efficiently as possible. When he turns to his own body, Victor leans hard against the wall and watches with soft, affectionate eyes that strip Yuuri down to his bones, vulnerability crashing over him like a wave. 

Yuuri steps forward under the spray and splays a hand over Victor’s heart, water cascading over his shoulders and streaming into his eyes. He knows that this is where their lives must intersect, and he tilts his head up in invitation.

Victor leans down and kisses him carefully, a gentle exploration, and Yuuri puts as much feeling as he can into the kiss, tries to let Victor know that everything they do together is part of a whole, that it means the world to him.

Victor pulls away with a tug on Yuuri’s bottom lip and reaches over to turn the water off.

“I  _ am _ yours,” he says simply.

“I… Thank you,” Yuuri chokes out, absolutely unable to think of anything else to say. 

Victor just smiles and kisses him again before leading him out of the shower. They towel off and put on robes, and walk back out into the playroom, still silent, Yuuri’s nerves flaring to life in the pit of his stomach.

Victor collapses into the sofa with a yawn, puts his feet up, and pats his lap until Yuuri settles himself between his legs and across his chest, Victor’s arms wrapped around his back. 

“Thank you,” Victor says into his hair. “Not just for tonight, though that was incredible. But. For everything. For you.”

Yuuri turns until they’re chest to chest and Yuuri’s cheek is tucked warm against the open front of Victor’s robe. He hugs him, words stuck in his throat and completely unable to verbalize, in any sort of coherent way, what Victor has come to mean to him now, something bigger and better and more than he ever had before. Something with meaning and depth.  

“Victor,” Yuuri says softly, and sucks in a breath. “I need to tell you—“

He’s interrupted by a soft snort. “What?” Victor slurs, and it was obvious he’d dozed off.

Not tonight, then. But soon. “Nothing,” Yuuri says softly and curls up on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Good morning, Yuuri,” Victor sing-songs in his ear, his lips tickling the edge of it. Yuuri swats at him and he giggles. Yuuri burrows further into his chest and groans, then sits bolt upright when he realizes who he’s with and where they are.

“Oh,” he says, and Victor looks at him, amused.

“Yes, we crashed out here all night, whoops?” Victor shrugs, completely unconcerned. Yuuri feels like the world has flipped upside down and then yanked out from under him, and he can feel his chest seizing up.

“No,” Yuuri says, “That’s not supposed to happen!” 

“What? Yuuri, it’s no big deal, really. Is it?”

Yuuri realizes what he must look like, what he must  _ sound _ like. Fuck. He needs to calm down. “Okay, no, it’s fine, really. I’ve just never had someone sleep over. Never. Especially not in the playroom.”

“I’m your first?” Victor looks delighted. “I’m so honored!”

Oh my god, Phichit was going to give him  _ so much shit _ . 

But as he looks at Victor’s brilliant smile and sleep-mussed hair, he really doesn’t care. His heart flutters in his chest and he wonders what it might be like to wake up to that smile every single day. He grips his courage with both hands and takes a deep breath.

“Would you like to go out for breakfast?” he asks. “There’s a really great diner near here.”

“I’d love to.” Victor kisses him on the tip of the nose.  “Let’s get dressed.” 

“I need to run upstairs for clothes. Meet you by the front door in five?”

Victor stands and stretches, his back popping a couple of times as he twists himself around. “Oh, ouch. I should have stretched after, I think.”

Yuuri laughs. “Well, Mister ‘Nooo, Yuuri, I don’t waaaaant to take a bath, don’t make me!’, I don’t know what you expected.”

“Mean,” Victor pouts and moves to untie his robe. Yuuri watches it part, then Victor shrugs it off to pool around his ankles. Yuuri is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and presses a kiss to his bare collarbone. “Oh,” Victor breathes, as Yuuri draws him close with an arm around his waist. 

“Not mean,” Yuuri whispers. “Remember that.” Yuuri reaches down and strokes Victor’s hardening cock once, then backs away and dives for the playroom door. “Five minutes!” he says brightly, and giggles as Victor groans and flops back on the sofa, completely defeated. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Katsuki Yuuri,” Phichit says, standing in Yuuri’s bedroom door with his hands on his hips. “Do you want to explain to me why the same man who was in our playroom last night is  _ still there this morning _ ?”

“Nope,” Yuuri says, and pulls a soft-worn tshirt and a pair of jeans out his drawer and drags them on.  “I’m already messed up enough about this as it is, why not just pile another poor decision on top of all the other ones?”

“You are absolutely in love with him, aren’t you?” Phichit leans against his doorframe, blocking his way. 

“Am I?” Yuuri sits down heavily on his bed and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I’ve never seen you touch someone like you touched him. Never heard you talk to someone like you talk to him. It was … intense. I don’t know if I can ever be in a scene with you guys again, it was sort of freaking me out a little bit.”

Yuuri swallows heavily. “I am, aren’t I? Oh God, I am.”

Phichit comes into the room and sits next to him on the bed. “But you’re happy with him.”

“So, so much.”

“Then I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy, Yuuri.  And if what you’re doing with Victor is making you happy, then I’m glad. Just be careful, okay? Remember to talk to him.”

Yuuri nods. “I am. I swear.”

“Then go get him, tiger,” Phichit says, and pats him on the shoulder. 

Yuuri nods and bounds down the stairs to find Victor waiting for him, sunshine pouring through the transom window above the door and setting Victor’s hair alight. Yuuri feels a clench in his chest when their eyes meet, and he knows now that there’s no turning back. They grin at each other and Yuuri takes his hand and walks out the door into the bright summer day.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor's nipple clamps: https://www.lukeandjack.co.uk/ff-gold-magnetic-nipple-clamps-18847
> 
> If you're still a bit lost as to what I described (And trust me, I got lost a bit too), imagine this kinbaku position, but if she were to lean forward into the ropes and let them cradle her body, and lift her off the floor at a 45 degree angle, head up. Arms free. https://i.pinimg.com/736x/15/46/8e/15468e45f799c9d91d27d75fc31bd105--rope-art-ariel.jpg


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast. Dress Up. Party. Heartbreak.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Is my mask straight?” Victor tugs on his mask, straightens his collar and fidgets with the hem until Yuuri grabs both of his hands and holds them tightly._
> 
> _“For the last time, you look perfect. Stop messing with your shirt. Stop fiddling with your mask. Jesus, were you this awful before you skated?”_
> 
> _“Yes?” Victor tries to smile, but he’s still nervous. He wants to make a good impression on Yuuri’s friends, wants to show everyone what a good sub he is, and maybe, just maybe, Yuuri will confirm the exclusivity of their arrangement past heated declarations made while fucking each other brainless in the playroom._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a grateful heart for extraordinary beta services to Liz (pursuitofnerdiness) and A.N.D. They made sure I didn't fuck this up, and frankly, I'd come close. Bless them both.  
> And thank you, readers. The response to this story, now, officially, the longest single fic I've ever written (and I've written more than 100), has been amazing. Happy YOI Anniversary, fandom.

Victor is happy.

He’s walking hand-in-hand with a gorgeous man in the brilliant summer sun in one of his favorite cities in the world, and they’re going to get _pancakes._

Victor pulls ahead and walks backwards in front of Yuuri, all the while holding onto his hand. “Tell me they have strawberries. There’s no point otherwise. And whipped cream. And sausage. And —”

Yuuri just laughs and pulls him back to his side. “Yes, they have all of that, I promise.  Come on, if we take much longer we’ll be sitting on the sidewalk for an hour.”

“Okay, we jog, then!”

“No, Victor, come on, it’s so _early_ —“

“The early bird gets the strawberries, Yuuri! Come _on_!”

Yes, definitely happy. Yuuri rolls his eyes and picks up the pace until he’s reluctantly running, actually sort of keeping up with Victor’s long-legged strides, but Victor still has him beat by a few seconds and when they get to the restaurant, there are only two groups in front of them. Victor cheers and Yuuri leans against the building, starting to sweat but not nearly as winded as Victor thought he might be. He looks delectable, disheveled hair and faded old tshirt, thin and clinging in the humidity. Victor leans in and brushes his damp bangs away with careful fingers, and Yuuri gifts him with a shy smile.

Victor never wants this to end. Soft mornings and blistering hot nights, the steady warmth and clarity of knowing where and with whom you belong. It’s intoxicating, heady. Everything he’s ever wanted.

Yuuri quirks a puzzled smile and Victor realizes he’s been staring at him a solid minute. There’s still time to sort out what to do about the impending end of summer, but first, pancakes.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“So,” Yuuri says, and spears an orange slice on his fork, “tell me about the book. How is it going?”

“Well, it’s sort of…changed. A little. From the original premise.”

Yuuri looks slightly wary. “Changed? In what way?”

Victor swallows his bite and wipes his lips with his napkin. He’s stalling. He doesn’t want to stall, but… “Well, it was a mystery, right? A murder mystery.”

Yuuri nods.

“But now it’s more…an erotic thriller? If you understand the difference. The focus has changed from the investigation of the murder to, well. The relationship between the detective and the dominant he’s been shadowing, to learn more about the scene.” Victor clears his throat. “He realizes this person has really become his friend. Maybe more than a friend. And he’s asked him to join in on a scene, to see if he might like it.”

Yuuri smiles, sly and knowing, and Victor’s cheeks heat. “Oh?” Yuuri says. “And what does your detective think he might do?”

“There’s no possible way he’s going to say no,” Victor says. Two can play this game. “The tension between them has been growing for weeks. He can barely keep his hands to himself.”

“Ooooh. What will the Dom will try first?” Yuuri swipes one of Victor’s strawberries from his plate and pops it into his mouth, eyes alight.

“Oh, nothing particularly complicated or painful. I think he just wants to touch him, and be touched.” Victor runs his finger around the rim of his glass and looks up from under his eyelashes. Flirting like this is _fun_. “He’s watched his friend reduce men to begging, sweaty, needy messes, and he wants it for himself.”

Yuuri’s eyes go dark. “Sounds like the Dom has picked up on that. Maybe wants to push him around a little, see if he likes it.” Yuuri slides a foot between Victor’s, well out of sight behind the tablecloth, and kicks his ankles apart.

Victor sucks in a breath and holds it for a beat. “I think he’d like that very much.”

“Interesting.” Yuuri’s foot, now shoeless— and how did he do that so quickly?—is sliding its way up Victor’s leg, pausing at his knee to massage the swell of bone there, and then up the inside of his thigh.

“You’re going to kill me,” Victor hisses. “I’m going to die, right here on a white tablecloth in Manhattan, face down in a pile of strawberries.”

Yuuri giggles. “And whipped cream.”

“And  whipped cream.”

“No, you’re not going to die,” Yuuri says, and his foot rests lightly right on Victor’s crotch. He whimpers. “Shhh. Only when you’re ready. And only a little death.”

“ _Le petit mort. En fraises._ ” Victor says, and they both break down snorting and cackling over pancakes, the other patrons of the restaurant giving them dirty looks, which only makes Victor laugh harder.

“We’ll take the check when you can,” he says to the waiter between giggles.

“ _Vous êtes deux idiots_ ,” the waiter hisses at them, and after a startled moment of silence, he and Yuuri almost fall out of their chairs laughing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

They decide to walk back to Victor and Chris’ apartment, and Yuuri says he’ll get a cab back once they get there.

“You can come up,” Victor says, and swings their clasped hands between them. “It is Saturday, after all.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet, and I’d love to. But.” Yuuri sighs. “I have to clean up the mess in the playroom so Phichit can have it tonight, and I’ve got some choreography to finish up. I didn’t have time this week, between actual work and planning for…well. You.”

Victor preens, smug. “Was it worth the time?”

Yuuri stops in the middle of the sidewalk and pulls Victor flush against his body. People grumble and snark as they weave around the little island they’ve created, but Yuuri ignores them and nudges his lips against Victor’s in a soft, thorough, _delicious_ kiss. Victor can feel the strong arc of Yuuri’s body against his, already so intimately familiar. Yuuri pulls back a fraction, eyes still closed.

“You know you’re worth everything,” he whispers, and Victor feels that fluttering in his chest again, that warm contentment spreading through his limbs.  Yuuri hadn’t really answered his declaration last night, looking almost stunned to the point Victor was worried he’d pushed too far.

But perhaps not.  He smiles and takes Yuuri’s hand, kisses him on the knuckles before turning it over to press a lingering kiss to the underside of his wrist. Yuuri blushes but smiles, and Victor knows he understands what might be simply too soon to say.

They walk a few more minutes in companionable silence, enjoying the day before the heat really sets in. All too soon, he can see his own building coming up. He’s not ready to let Yuuri go just yet, but he understands obligations better than most, so he prepares to let him leave for the moment.

“Victor,” Yuuri starts, as Victor turns toward the front door of his building. “Instead of coming to the house Friday, would you be interested in doing something else Saturday?”

Victor’s heart drops. “Instead of Friday?” His voice isn’t nearly as normal as he wishes it were. He looks forward to Fridays. He doesn’t want to give any of them up.

“Oh, um.” Yuuri directs him to the side of the door and lowers his voice. “It’s a party, Saturday. One of my friends his having it. Invitation only. I’m allowed to bring someone, though.”

Understanding dawns. “Oh, that kind of party! Like where we met.”

Yuuri nods and smiles. “Precisely. I just didn’t know how open you wanted to be, and if you would want to be out like that. With me. As…as my submissive.”

His submissive. _Yuuri’s._ “Of course!” The words are out of Victor’s mouth before he even thinks about them, but once he does, the internal voice that has been regulating his behavior since he was a young teen makes itself heard. “Oh, um. There will probably be a lot of people there I don’t know, right? I would have to be pretty careful. Not exactly low profile, you know?”

Yuuri considers. “Yes, I did think about that. Phichit will be there, and I bet Chris will be too. He’s invited to everything. But I think a mask would work well, and it’s expected that anyone who comes to these parties be discreet, on pain of social banishment. They’d never be invited anywhere ever again if anything got out, you know?”

“Okay.” He thinks back to the party he’d seen before, and another worry starts to surface. “Will you expect me to…do anything? With anyone else?”

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri says, and the flash in his eyes makes Victor’s heart stir. “I have no intention of sharing you. You won’t be wearing a collar, but it will be very obvious who you belong to.”

Victor grins. “I can’t wait. What should I wear? What time do I need to be ready? What—“

Yuuri puts his hand over Victor’s mouth. Victor shuts up immediately, but then can’t help himself and licks Yuuri’s palm. Yuuri squeals and jumps back, scrubbing his hand over his hip.

“Seriously? I’d swear you’re twelve.” Victor just laughs. “Anyway, don’t worry about any of that. Just come to the house around eight. I mean, close to eight. Whatever. I’m not picky.”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Yes, you are.”

“Well, I mean, don’t be really late or anything, we’ve got—

“I’ll be there at eight pm,” Victor says with a laugh. “No worries.”

“Okay, then. Eight on Saturday. I’ll take care of everything.” Yuuri edges up to Victor for another kiss, and it seems now that he’s allowed himself the indulgence, he kisses Victor whenever he can, whenever the mood seems to strike him, and that’s fairly often. Victor doesn’t mind, not one bit, not when Yuuri’s kisses never seem to be the same from one to the next. This one is careful and soft, a lingering goodbye, and Victor watches him hail a cab and drive away, looking at Victor through the back window until the Saturday traffic swallows him up.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He doesn’t get to see Yuuri again the entire week. He tries to text him Tuesday, maybe have a lunch date, but Yuuri texts back regrets.

_10:14 AM Yuuri_

_Sorry, it’s testing week. I’ve got a lot of protocols to get through. I’m really sorry. Miss you._

_10:16 AM_

_Miss you too. Thought about your cock today. Need you. Want you to fuck me._

_10:17 AM Yuuri_

_Be good for me and we’ll get to Saturday. I want you so badly right now, and I can’t leave this test protocol to even jerk off._

_10:18 AM Yuuri_

_I’ll call you tonight._

Victor reads the last text with a huge grin. Yuuri usually stops work around five thirty. He putters around the house, finishes laundry, sits down to the laptop and cranks out another 5,000ish words. Chris comes back from a quick on-ice session where he’s working out some new choreo with the Stars on Ice crew, and Victor tries not to watch the clock as they bicker and figure out some sort of dinner together and hassle each other over the remote.

“No, not another episode of Kardashians, Chris, fuck I hate that show,” Victor grabs the remote from his hand. “Can’t I at least watch something reasonable? What about Supernatural?”

“Fine, gay angels it is,” Chris says, and settles himself into the corner of the sofa. “Oh, I was going to tell you, I got invited to a great party next Saturday. Want to come with?”

“Oh, is it the party Yuuri was telling me about? A play party?”

Chris’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, why, are you… _oh my god_ , are you going with Yuuri?”

“Well, yes. He invited me.”

“To go with him. Like, with him, with him. As his sub.”

Victor puzzles over this a minute. “Yes, is that okay? What’s wrong?”

Chris has the biggest grin on his face. “Nothing, unless you count the fact I’ve never seen Yuuri at a party with anyone, ever before. He’s had people he’s met there for scenes, but he’s never brought someone.” Chris cocks his head and studies Victor, and after a moment he brightens. “Does that mean he’s going to collar you?”

Victor’s stomach turns somersaults. “What? No, no, he said I’m not wearing a collar, but that it will be very obvious who I belong to. I think that’s what he said. What’s that mean, then?”

“Huh.” Chris narrows his eyes a moment, looking thoughtful. “Well, I’m sure he’s got that all figured out. Just trust him, I suppose. But on to bigger and better topics! What on Earth are you wearing? You own exactly nothing appropriate for this party.”

“Yuuri said not to worry about it, that he’s going to dress me.” Victor can feel nerves twisting in his stomach. “Am I going to be in leather?” Oh god, that’s all he needs. A picture of himself looking like everyone’s gay fetish dream getting out on the internet for the world to speculate over. Maybe this is a bad idea after all.

“Victor, of all the people in the universe you can trust to not dress you like Leather Daddy Ken, Yuuri is one of them. Me, however, well. Glad I brought all my harnesses, is all I’m saying.”

“Oh my god.” Victor pushes Chris over by the side of the face. “Seriously, how do you even survive with that complete lack of self awareness?”

“Oh darling, I’m very aware. I just don’t give a shit. Now. You have until Saturday to get your act together. Mani-pedis, haircut, wax. You’re going to look hot as fuck. You may not have a collar yet, but we’re going to make sure he wants to get you one.  I will see that man finally make a commitment before we all die of old age.”

Victor bites his lip. A collar, for him. He knows Chris is mostly just kidding around, but. A mark of possession that he can wear while they play, something to remind him who he belongs to. A promise between the two of them of commitment and exclusivity.

Does he want that? He can’t imagine, now, being with anyone else, trusting anyone else, caring so much about anyone else. He and Yuuri are so well matched that Victor isn’t sure how he managed this long without him. He can be himself, give himself over to thoughts and ideas and desires he’d barely been able to articulate before, free to speak his mind openly without anyone finding it strange or odd. Without someone expecting him to be something he’s not. It’s incredible.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Victor says. “I’m ready.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

“I know this is a bit unusual, my beauty, but I had a few things to finish up.” Yuuri hangs two garment bags on the door to the bathroom and turns around with a smile.

Victor just blinks at him. He’s never been in the playroom when Victor has arrived, simply opening the door like clockwork at five minutes after his arrival, giving Victor just enough time to strip down and kneel. The desire to do just that tugs at him, and he’s a bit lost. Yuuri must sense his unease, because he immediately crosses the room to wrap a hand around the back of Victor’s neck and press their foreheads together.

“Do you need to kneel, Victor?” he asks quietly.

“Please.” Victor hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on these rituals to settle him, but it appears Yuuri can read him like an open book.

“Then take your shirt off,” he says, and the matter-of-fact command is like a lifeline to a drowning man. Victor quickly slips out of his shirt. Yuuri takes it and folds it over one arm before leading him to the cushion. Victor settles himself quickly, takes a deep breath and lets it out, and waits.

It will come. He knows it will.

A touch, two fingers at the base of his neck that leave him on a knife edge of expectation until Yuuri draws those fingers down his spine and rests them against the waistband of his jeans, and then leans forward and kisses between Victor’s shoulderblades. He sighs, tension leaving him in a single breath.

“Do you feel better, my beauty?” Yuuri whispers.

“Yes, thank you sir. I still feel… a bit worked up, though.” Victor can feel the blush across his cheeks.

Yuuri chuckles. “Oh yes. Being in this room can do that to you.”

“I feel like Pavlov’s dog,” Victor says, wry.

“You should. I’ve spent over a month training you for exactly that.”

Victor’s mouth drops open. He can’t help it.

Yuuri puts a hand on his head and pulls him in to rest his cheek on Yuuri’s stomach. “Oh, darling. You asked me to train you as a submissive. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. What did you think would happen? You’ve reached a point where I don’t have to worry about all the little things. You follow the cues I’ve set to find your way to the right headspace without my saying a word. That’s why we can do other things, now. Things that take a lot more trust and obedience. I can’t tie you to the cross if I’m worried you’re going to ignore my orders every two minutes.”

Victor breathes, rubs his cheek against the soft material of Yuuri’s tshirt, his abs firm underneath. “I just didn’t realize, is all.” He knew he craved that routine, those first moments in the playroom where Yuuri welcomed him back with a touch, but he hadn’t understood that Yuuri had done that, had used his own desire for constancy to help him find the right mental space for their play.

And really, it’s to help him let go. Of everything. Of what people expect, what they want from him, what he has to perform to make him the man they want. Like putting on costumes and routines and personalities like a disguise, a surprise every time. Like trying to write a book designed to shock, to titillate, and watching it fall apart on the page to be replaced with something deeper, more honest.

Because Yuuri just wants him as he is, and gives him what he needs without having to search for it.

He pulls away and looks in Yuuri’s eyes, soft and warm and so, so pleased with him.

All for just being here with him, like this.

Suddenly the desire for the collar Chris teased him about rises in an overwhelming wave. He’ll be perfect.  He’ll be so perfect tonight that Yuuri won’t be able to resist collaring him. And then he’ll find an apartment, stay in New York. Give himself over to this thing they’re building together, in the playroom and out of it.

“Sir,” Victor purrs, sweet as sugar. “Can we get ready, now? I can’t wait to show everyone what a good boy I am.”

Yuuri’s molasses-slow, satisfied smile is everything Victor wants, from now until forever.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Victor turns each way to look himself over critically in the mirror. Virginal white and embroidered chiffon shirt, slim white leather pants, white shoes. A look so innocent and pure Victor can tell Yuuri is planning to send a very specific message to whomever is at this party tonight.

That Victor is his own, his precious angel to spoil and debauch as he sees fit. Victor smiles at himself, smug. Damn straight he is.

“What do you think?” Yuuri asks, walking back into the bathroom and tugging on his cuffs. He’s wearing almost exactly the opposite of Victor, but in all black, long sleeves where Victor’s are short, and just a triangular slash of floral lace down the front of his shirt where Victor’s entire front is exposed under chiffon embroidered with vertical, twining stripes. A matched pair, but not identical.

He _loves_ it, and just beams at Yuuri.

Yuuri gives him a good once over. “I think you look gorgeous. But I wonder…do you mind if I do some makeup? Just a little, around your eyes.”

Victor grins and nods happily. Apparently Yuuri has his own little thing for makeup, like Victor does. Victor just melts at the mounting evidence of their compatibility as Yuuri pats some primer around Victor’s eyes and waits for it to set. Victor can feel him drawing eyeliner on, giving him a winged look with…something. Black? No, not in this outfit.

Yuuri pulls his hands back and Victor cracks his eyes open. Whatever eyeliner Yuuri used is a bit heavier than he’s used to, and he can feel it still setting on the corners of his eyes.

Yuuri breaks into a huge smile. “Yes, I think that’s perfect. Have a look.”

Victor turns to look in the mirror, and holy _shit_. Yuuri has outlined his eyes in glittering, gold eyeliner, top and bottom, giving him an exaggerated wing all over a deep rose pink blended into the crease and plum over his eyelids. His eyelashes are long and lush, but not black, exactly. He leans forward and looks more closely.

“Is that purple mascara?” he asks, and flutters his eyelashes. “This is gorgeous. I love it. I sort of wish you’d done the rest of my face, actually. I feel naked.”

“Ah, well. This is why.” Yuuri opens a box on the countertop and inside is a mask, Victor’s small measure of protection for tonight. Yuuri pulls it out and carefully ties it over Victor’s face, the gold and white masquerade-style mask covering him over his nose and cheekbones. There is a white and gold flower on one side, with arcing, white, feather-like accents. The rest of the mask is split down the middle – gold with white filigree designs on one side, white with gold on the other. It’s gorgeous, and when Victor looks in the mirror, his elegant eye makeup is clearly visible, and it all highlights the blue of his eyes by contrast.

“But what about you?” Victor asks. Yuuri has his hair slicked back as usually does when they’re playing, but his face is otherwise bare.

Yuuri fusses with a loose strand of hair over his forehead. “I’m so glad you like it. But I’m not going to do much, myself. I just want to show you off.”

Victor frowns. It’s not right he gets to have all the fun. “Please? I loved the eyeliner you did before. It was really sexy.” Yuuri blinks, and Victor goes in for the kill, slipping his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and tilting it up so he can kiss him lightly on the lips. “And maybe I want to show you off, too. My gorgeous master.”

Yuuri licks Victor’s kiss from his lower lip. “You’re impossible,” Yuuri says, but sighs and turns back to the mirror and starts to outline his eyes in jet black, and even adds a few tiny crystals to the corners and a flash of silver on his lids. Victor waits, satisfied, and then digs through Yuuri’s makeup box until he finds a tube of gloss. He puts some on, then pats some on Yuuri’s lips with a delicate finger.

“Well?” he asks. “Do you think we’re ready?”  Victor looks in the mirror at the two of them. They look astonishing together, head-turning, and he can’t wait for everyone to see them.

Yuuri slips an arm around his waist, and Victor lets the reality of the two of them— a couple, a unit—wash over him.

Mischief and joy dances in Yuuri’s eyes. “Let’s go have some fun, my beauty. I promise, you’ll love it.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Is my mask straight?” Victor tugs on his mask, straightens his collar and fidgets with the hem until Yuuri grabs both of his hands and holds them tightly.

“For the last time, you look perfect. Stop messing with your shirt. Stop fiddling with your mask. Jesus, were you this awful before you skated?”

“Yes?” Victor tries to smile, but he’s still nervous. He wants to make a good impression on Yuuri’s friends, wants to show everyone what a good sub he is, and maybe, just maybe, Yuuri will confirm the exclusivity of their arrangement past heated declarations made while fucking each other brainless in the playroom.

The elevator makes its way up to the penthouse in one of the most exclusive buildings in Manhattan, up past the 33rd floor now, and Yuuri still won’t let go of his hands.

“Remember, don’t stray more than three feet away from me, understand? Like you’re on a leash.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if anyone tries anything you’re uncomfortable with, tell me immediately.”

“Yes.”

“And if you find yourself needing a break, just tell me your safeword and you can go—

“Sir,” Victor says, stern. “Now who’s nervous?”

Yuuri stops, then chuckles. “You’re right. I just want you to enjoy yourself tonight. We’ll be fine. Okay?” The elevator slows, then stops, and the doors slide open into a small vestibule.

Victor takes a deep breath. “Okay. It’s time to sparkle.”

Yuuri smiles, rolls his eyes and presses the buzzer. The door swings open, revealing a tall, dark-haired man with a wide, overly-white smile.

“Yuuri!” he says, and Victor can see Yuuri flinch slightly. “Seung-gil will be happy you’re here!” He turns his attention to Victor, and Victor stands quietly under the scrutiny, waiting for some sort of cue from Yuuri. “Well, well. Who’s this?” the man says, and positively leers. Victor keeps his shudder to himself.

“This is Victor, JJ. Victor, this is JJ, one of Seung-gil’s friends.”

Victor offers his hand and demurely shakes. “Pleased to meet you,” he says, softly.

“Oh my, Yuuri, he’s precious. I’m impressed. Thought you’d never land a man! We’ll have to introduce him to Isabella later, let her give him some tips!”  JJ slaps Yuuri on the back and Yuuri raises an eyebrow and gives JJ a haughty smirk.

“Or perhaps Victor will give her some,” Yuuri says. “We’re going to find Phichit. Talk to you later.” Yuuri takes Victor by the hand and leads him across the large living room, through a set of double doors, and into a large salon with floor to ceiling windows on two sides. The sparkling lights of New York reflect through the space, lit just so with low, rose-colored lamps and banks of candles on shelves around the room. There’s a thread of music underlying the conversation, and if Victor didn’t know better, he’d think this was just another high-class party in any other city in the world.

He has a feeling he’ll see the differences soon enough.

He catches Phichit waving from a soft, squashy couch in the corner, and he taps Yuuri on the shoulder and points him out. They make their way toward him, Yuuri’s fingers laced through his and leading the way.

“Oh, you guys look amazing,” Phichit says, and Victor can’t help but smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. JJ has been making the rounds, ugh.”

Yuuri takes a seat on the sofa next to Phichit, and Victor stands next to him, considering perching on the arm when Yuuri taps his hand. “At my feet, Victor,” he says.

Victor immediately drops to sit on the floor, tucked up against Yuuri’s legs. Yuuri brushes a hand over his hair. “Good boy,” he croons, then turns back to Phichit. “Yes, we were greeted by his royal highness. He wants Victor to meet Isabella, god.”

Phichit rolls his eyes. “You know he’s only here because he’s one of Seung-gil’s best clients. Gross.”

“Yes, well…” Yuuri responds, and Victor’s attention drifts from the conversation, two friends gossiping about their lives, and watches the couples and groups of friends who are scattered around the room, drinking and eating canapés and chatting. At first, he thought everyone was as conservatively dressed as they are, but as he sits, he catches a few people in leather, some in fetish gear, a few wearing harnesses, but nothing particularly extreme. People drift back toward the living room, but otherwise, the entire party is like a social event, not a scene in sight, and certainly not the party he was expecting. He feels strangely disappointed, and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri says, immediately.

“Oh, um. I just was hoping to see something…new,” Victor says. “But no one is playing?”

Phichit giggles. “Oh, no, not in here. We’re in the chill space, just so Yuuri and I could meet up. All the fun is in the back, in the gym.”

Victor nods. That makes sense, but… “The gym?”

Yuuri nods. “Oh yeah. Seung-gil is loaded. This place is huge. But we’re boring you, my beauty. Let’s see what’s going on, okay? Peach, we’ll catch up later?”

“I’ll be around, sure. I’ve got a demo in an hour, though.”

As Yuuri stands, Victor stands and walks with him, right at his shoulder. It feels slightly strange, as he’s much taller than Yuuri, but Yuuri walks with such confidence, with such grace, Victor can’t help falling in immediately. Various people greet him as he passes, wave and smile and then, Victor notices, they turn to their conversation partners with raised eyebrows and a whisper behind their hands.

Yes, Yuuri is certainly making a statement tonight, and Victor swells with pride. His master is well respected in his community, to the point where his appearance with Victor is cause for celebration, and not malicious gossip. Good. He hopes everyone is happy for Yuuri, though if a few are envious of Victor’s position, he couldn’t blame them.

The gym they reach after passing through the kitchen and a long hall is fairly roomy, and there are at least three separate groups of people in different parts of the room. The swing of a flogger is the first thing he notices, but he can’t see the person on the receiving end due to the group of people standing around. Another group has gathered around a person holding a long, thin…something. A cane? Maybe that’s what it is, and talking to the group and demonstrating how to use it. And in the middle of the last group is, unsurprisingly, Chris.

“Oh God, there he is,” Victor breathes, before he can stop himself.

“Hm? I’m sorry?” Yuuri, who is watching the caning demonstration turns, and then starts to giggle. “Oh, of course. He dives in as soon as he gets anywhere, you should know that about him.”

Victor watches as Chris’ shining, oiled skin is covered in drips of red candlewax, his bare chest already showing a fairly healthy coating. Yuuri draws them closer, and Victor watches with awe as his friend arches and sighs under each warm impact, until the woman holding the candle puts it down and releases the cuffs that are holding his arms to the bench he’s lying on. He sits up, some of the cooled wax flaking off of his body. He grins broadly, and then spots Victor in the crowd and bounds right over like an overexcited puppy.

“There you are! Oh my, Yuuri, didn’t you do a wonderful job with him! He looks like an angel in this den of sin.”

Yuuri looks pleased. “Yes, so don’t corrupt him, Christophe,” he warns, and Chris laughs, delighted.

“You know I’ll do my best to do exactly that, cheri. Now, I need to clean up, so I’ll meet you later, okay? I want to watch you in action, Victor.”

“Okay,” Victor says, “But first, can I—?” and pokes Chris on the shoulder, where a drip of wax has landed. He picks it off and it’s soft, still, and grows softer as he holds it in his hand. Not quite a hard as candlewax, then. Interesting.

“Not as hot as you’d expect, but it will make you jump, the first time,” Chris says, and then Victor realizes Yuuri has drifted away during this conversation, back toward the caning demo.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and carefully tiptoes up behind Yuuri, within his three-foot space, and stands there quietly. Chris smothers a laugh behind his hand. Victor waves at him to shut him up just as Yuuri turns his head to check Victor is still there. Victor stops and just beams at him.

Yuuri narrows his eyes, and Victor maintains his most innocent look.

“Stand with me and watch this,” Yuuri says, and Victor comes closer, his heart beating again with relief. He allows himself to press into Yuuri’s side and Yuuri winds an arm around his waist, and he hums, content, as he carefully watches a small woman receive marks from a long, thin cane all over her ass and shoulders. Yuuri tilts his head, considering, and Victor can see his heart beating fast in the twitch of his throat.

_Interesting._

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Victor and Yuuri leave the caning demo and walk hand in hand down the hallway toward the kitchen, picking up some sparkling water and snacks on their way back to the salon.  Things have really started to pick up and the penthouse, as spacious as it is, is starting to get crowded.  Victor has to turn sideways a few times to slip through the crowd, and tries to brush off the many admiring glances he gets as he does. He’s accustomed to people looking; they’ve done so for 15 years. But he’s not quite used to this specific type of attention – the sort where everyone seemed to know you, what you liked in bed and what you wanted.

Which is why the tall, blond man staring at him from across the room is really creeping him out. Victor hurries along to keep close to Yuuri, so close he bumps into his shoulder. Yuuri gives him a questioning look, but Victor just ignores him and keeps walking.

“What did you think of the caning?” Yuuri asks him, as he settles into a wingbacked chair in the corner of the room. Victor immediately sits in front of him, tucked in between his knees, his back to the seat of the chair. Yuuri hums quiet approval.

Victor knows Yuuri was very interested in what he saw, knows that he’d mentioned working up to caning at some point, and now that Victor has seen it for himself, he might actually give it a try. Just once, to see what it is like.

Painful, probably, but the idea doesn’t bother him as much now as it once did. Pain tends to focus him, now, makes his blood sing, feeds a rush of endorphins straight to his brain and makes his orgasms just that much more intense.  And it would make Yuuri happy, too, to introduce Victor to something new.

“Mmmm. Seems very intense. Do you work up to hitting that hard?”

“Oh, absolutely. Just lightly, at first. It’s definitely something you’ll either love or hate, but if you’re willing we could give it a try.”

“Of course, sir,” Victor says, and tips his head so his temple is leaning against Yuuri’s knee. Yuuri wraps a hand around his neck and rubs circles into his nape with his thumb. Victor closes his eyes and almost purrs with pleasure at his touch.

Yuuri leans forward to whisper in his ear, lips barely grazing the shell of it and Victor melts. “Maybe after our drinks we could—” he says, before he’s interrupted by Chris sprawling dramatically on the floor next to Yuuri’s legs, clad in nothing but tiny purple latex shorts and polished, black spike heeled boots that come up to his knee.  Christ.

“Mind if I hide here for a minute?” he asks Yuuri.

Yuuri nods, and Chris scoots closer and leans against his knee.

Victor all but growls, and he can feel himself practically bare his teeth at his friend.

“Claws in, kitten,” Chris says. “I’m just using him for a bit. No one will bother me if they think we’ve hooked up.”

Victor subsides, but he watches every inch of Chris’s skin that’s in contact with Yuuri’s body, and fights the irrational urge to shove him away. .

“Victor, stop. It’s fine. Chris knows where the line is drawn, as do I.” Yuuri places a hand on Victor’s neck again, and the light touch settles him, somewhat.

He feels a bit embarrassed, now. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Chris looks at him over Yuuri’s knee with a narrow-eyed, assessing gaze. “Never would have guessed. You, possessive.” His voice is low, so Yuuri can’t hear. “That’s new.”

“I’ve never cared that much before,” Victor replies, and hooks a hand around Yuuri’s lower leg.  Yuuri is idly playing with his hair as they wait for Phichit to reappear from wherever he’d disappeared to, and Victor sighs, content for the moment to be under his master’s care.

“Lucky you,” Chris says, drawing patterns in the carpet with his finger. “I’m so tired of all this, honestly,” he says, his voice a bit louder.

Yuuri turns his attention to that rather startling declaration. “Of all what? The scene?”

“Oh, no, just playing the field. I see the two of you so happy together, and it just…”

“It just what?” Phichit says as he walks up. “You’re tired of playing the field? _You_?”

Chris looks down, blushing slightly. Victor has never seen his friend so disarmed before, so openly vulnerable in front of others. Himself, yes, they’ve talked about everything, but to Yuuri? Phichit?

“I’m getting old, _cheri_ ,” he says with an exaggerated wink. “My charms will fade, and I’ll be reduced to hoarding cats and drinking gin from the bottle to drown my loneliness.”

Phichit bites his bottom lip, and Victor can tell he’s not buying this melodramatic deflecting bullshit any more than Victor would.

“Come on, Christophe,” Phichit says, and holds out his hand. “Why don’t you and I find a spot to talk? We’ve not really had the chance to have a good long chat in a few years. Besides, I heard Isabella safeworded on JJ earlier and demanded the key to her collar.”

Chris looks up at him, at lithe, pretty Phichit with the liquid eyes, and Victor watches in amazement as his friend’s spine loosens and his shoulders relax, and he reaches up to take Phichit’s offered hand.

“Ah, sweet schadenfreude.  You’re a catty bitch, Phichit. I approve. Let’s go.”  Phichit points out a spot on the sofa nearby and settles them both in, Chris’ legs pulled over his lap. Chris leans in and says something with a sarcastic smirk and Phichit giggles, making Chris grin and lean his chin on his hand, completely focused on Phichit’s face.

Victor glances up and sees Yuuri watching the same scene with a soft smile.

“What?” Victor asks.

“I think,” Yuuri begins, then pauses. “I think the two of them have finally grown up a little bit. I mean, Phichit really is smart when it comes to relationships, more than I am. But it’s come from some pretty rotten experiences.”

“Chris has too.”

“Marco, for one,” Yuuri says, with an annoyed twist of his lips.

“Oh god, yes. Marco. I remember that breakup vividly.  And since that’s the case, I can’t believe you and I haven’t met before now. I mean, we’re both Chris’s friends.”

“Well, we do live half a world away from each other.”

Victor sighs. He’s trying not to think about that right now, about the thousands of miles that separate his permanent home from this, the first _person_ who’s felt like home, like he’s already where he belongs.

“And Chris and I haven’t been a regular thing in years. I think he was seeing me at a time he wasn’t being quite so open, maybe even with you.”

Victor nods again, reminded of the strange distance they’d developed about four years ago, when Chris was just in the beginning throes of his relationship with Marco, before it all went so wrong. But he watches as Phichit runs a gentle hand up Chris’s calf, more comforting than seductive, and Chris looks happy and relaxed. He hopes he can at least enjoy the rest of the evening, and perhaps he’s seeing the beginning of something new for his friend, as well.

Victor polishes off the rest of his sparkling water, and as he shifts around, he’s suddenly aware that he’s got to pee, like five minutes ago. Dammit.

“As much as I’m enjoying creeping on our friends, I really need to find the restroom,” Victor says, and remembers his three foot rule. “May I please, sir?”

“Absolutely,” Yuuri says. “No water sports.”

“Oh, gross,” Victor groans, and uses Yuuri’s knees to lever himself off of the floor. “I promise I’ll be right back,” he says, and leans over to peck Yuuri’s mouth. He winds his way back through the salon and living room and kitchen to the small powder room he saw off the hall. Fortunately it’s open, and he slips inside, relieves himself, and washes up. He checks his makeup and adjusts his mask, and he’s out in less than three minutes. Maybe he can get Yuuri to expand a bit on his half-finished suggestion from earlier, when Chris sat down with them, he thinks as he opens the door.

Only to find the blond who was staring at him earlier in the evening leaning against the wall opposite.

“I’m so glad I caught you, darling,” he says, and all Victor’s internal alarms start blaring. “I’ve wanted to talk to you all night.”

“Then you already know I’m here with someone,” Victor says, haughty, and tries to pass. The man steps in front of him and braces an arm on the wall, blocking Victor’s path. “Move, and let me leave.”

“Oh yes, I know you’re here with Yuuri,” he says, and holds his hands up in a strange attempt to look non-threatening. _Little late for that, asshole_. “But believe me when I say he’s not going to be around for much longer. I’ve asked around. I know you’re new to the scene. I also know that Yuuri never keeps a sub for more than a couple of weeks. He’ll get tired of you, pet. Someone as beautiful as you needs someone who can give you what you need.” He steps forward and drags a finger over Victor’s chin and Victor pulls back instinctively, skin crawling.

“Don’t you dare talk about him—” Victor starts.

“Are you okay, my beauty?” Yuuri says, and slides an arm around his waist. “I was starting to wonder what was taking you so long.” He looks across at the man standing there with his hands now in his pockets. “Something I can help you with, Kevin?” he asks politely.

“I was just having a chat with your lovely boy, here. Send him my way when you’re bored, will you? You know you don’t have what it takes to hold this beautiful creature.”

Yuuri’s eyes go cold, his body rigid. “If by that you mean I choose not to beat my partners into safewording on me two times out of three, then yes, I suppose not. Come on, Victor.”

Kevin holds out a card to Victor. “Take it. You’ll get bored, or he will. When that happens, give me a call.” Victor just stares at it until Yuuri snatches it out of Kevin’s hand, tears it up and drops the pieces on the floor.

“Goodbye, Kevin,” Yuuri snarls, and drags Victor by the wrist out through the kitchen and back toward the front door.

“Yuuri, I’m sorry,” Victor babbles. “I tried to get back to you, I swear I did.”

Yuuri just turns left down a separate hall that has a few open rooms along it. He pulls Victor inside, and Victor gets a glimpse of a bed that’s been stripped down to the bottom sheet, towels stacked on a chair next to it. Yuuri bypasses the bed and pulls Victor inside the en suite bathroom and closes the door and locks it.

Yuuri looks rattled, almost furious, and…turned on? “Are you mad? Please, Yuuri, I had no idea—“

“No, Victor. I’m not mad at you. Kevin, on the other hand? He should have known better.” Yuuri’s hands are clenched at his sides, and his mouth is a thin line.

Victor eyes him warily. “Are you sure? I swear, I just didn’t want to be rude. Please talk to me. Should I have done something differently?”

Yuuri steps forward and kisses him roughly, his hands cupping Victor’s face. He pulls away and looks at him carefully, little darting glances over his face, and then kisses him again, more gently this time.

“No. I should have made our relationship more clear to everyone,” Yuuri says, then spins Victor around and bends him over the countertop, his hands pinning Victor’s wrists to the cold marble on either side of the sink. Victor tries to stand up, wants to fall to his knees at Yuuri’s feet, anything to remind Yuuri that Victor is his, to get rid of that look he can see in the large vanity mirror in front of him.

Yuuri growls into his neck, and pushes his cock, already hard, into Victor’s clothed ass. “That whole situation was my own fault, for not marking my claim. Come on, look at me, Victor. Look up in the mirror, and look at me. Tell me you want this.”

He does. He can see Yuuri’s naked desire in his face, feel the fierce need to claim in the grip on his wrists. His own desire is a flash fire that rakes over his skin, the need to be one with Yuuri, to reconnect, overtaking him.

“Green,” he whispers.

Yuuri just nods and his jaw goes tight. He unsnaps Victor’s pants and yanks them over Victor’s hips until his ass is exposed to the cool air in the bathroom, before he unbuckles his own belt and drops his pants just enough to get his cock out.

“I hope you prepared tonight,” is all he says, and Victor just nods, dumbfounded as Yuuri tears open a sachet of lube from his pocket, coats his fingers, and immediately pushes two inside of him, teetering on the rough edge of painful. Victor closes his eyes.

“You’re mine,” Yuuri says, and replaces his fingers with his cock in one, long, smooth stroke, filling Victor completely, pushing in to the hilt. Victor throws his head back, the intrusion into his body shocking in its intensity, and he tries to ease the stretch by spreading his legs but he can’t, his pants still tight around his thighs. Yuuri grips his hips and digs in, his nails sharp, bright pinpricks of pain against the burn in his ass. “You’re mine,” he says again, as he fucks hard, his hips pushing Victor’s stomach into the edge of the counter. “Your pain is mine, your pleasure is mine. Your body is _mine_ ,” he snarls.

“Yes,” Victor cries, and he’s lost, overwhelmed, riding high on being _taken_ like this, being owned and wanted and needed. Yuuri’s face is twisted in pleasure, his eyes holding Victor’s gaze as he snaps his hips, relentless.

“I want you to understand one thing.  You’re only mine, you will only be mine unless I hear it otherwise from your own mouth. No one else but me. Fuck. Tell me,” Yuuri gasps and twists the back of Victor’s beautiful shirt in his hands and rides him even harder, the cold marble seeping into Victor’s skin where he’s pinned, and he can see his own flushed face, eyes wet behind the mask he’s wearing. Yuuri slips his fingers under the strap holding it on and flips it off and onto the floor.

Victor is getting close, he can feel it in the way his body tightens up, in the flare of heat every time Yuuri’s cock grazes his prostate, every tug on his rim. Every breath Yuuri ghosts across his neck.

“Look at me,” Yuuri chokes out, “And say my name.”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers, breathless.

“Louder, damn it,” Yuuri says, and grabs Victor’s shoulder for more leverage.

“Yuuri,” Victor says again. “Yes, please, I’m yours. Please. No one else. I just want to be yours.” He can feel tears starting to well up, his emotions overwhelming him, and when Yuuri reaches around to stroke his cock, fingers nimble and fast, he can’t help it, he comes with a hiccupping cry, all over the front of the sink, dripping down his legs into his beautiful white pants.

Yuuri doesn’t stop fucking him, he keeps going, but Victor realizes by the way he sucks his breath in through his teeth he’s holding himself back. He’s going to make sure Victor remembers this, will make sure his body doesn’t forget for days. Victor just holds on for the ride, and drops his head on his folded arms.

“I’m not going to stop until you tell me,” Yuuri says. “Not until then.”

“What?”  Victor grinds out.

“When you tell me you’ve had enough.” Yuuri snaps his hips hard enough Victor sees stars, pushing him further up the sink until his head almost touches the mirror. “Tell me.”

Victor realizes, somewhere in the haze, that Yuuri literally means he won’t stop fucking him until Victor tells him to. That he wants Victor to tell him when it’s too much, to stop him, to give him permission to come only when Victor is satisfied.

And it is absolutely blowing Victor’s mind.

He picks his head up and looks Yuuri dead in the eyes. “Keep going,” he says. “Keep fucking me until you’re ready to pass out.  I want you to fuck me until I come again, until I have nothing left. Then I want you to come inside me and let it drip down my legs. I want to pull up my pants and walk back out there and feel it for the rest of the night.” Yuuri’s eyes go wide, and Victor can’t stop talking, the rush and tumble of words falling out faster than he can even process what he’s saying. He can feel himself building toward the peak, again. “I want you to come home with me tonight and do it all again. And again. Until I’m full of you. Until I’m soaking in it. Come on, Yuuri, _give it to me. Now.”_

Yuuri thrusts one last time and comes with a long, low moan, his arms wrapped around Victor’s hips and his face buried in Victor’s back. Victor comes again, almost immediately after, and around the shattered, shaking breaths that echo from the walls, Victor realizes what he was really trying to say.

_Come on, Yuuri._

_Love me._

_………………………………………………………………………………………………………._

Victor wakes up slowly, like he’s dragging himself out of the fog.

He’s hot, the thin blanket he’d been sleeping with almost too much, tucked up around his shoulders, but there’s another source of heat in bed with him. When Victor peeks, his eyes barely slit open, he can see the smooth expanse of Yuuri’s bare back and the messy fall of his dark hair.

He blinks a few times and smiles to himself. Last night had been perfect. Amazing. They’d ducked out of the party and made out in the back of a cab all the way to Victor and Chris’ apartment, stumbled up the stairs, and fell into bed and didn’t leave until a slow, exhausted shower somewhere around four in the morning.

His ass hurts.

His shoulders hurt.

Fuck, everything hurts.

He brings his wrist up to his face and can see the beginnings of pale, barely-there bruises where Yuuri had pinned him down to the sink and claimed him, demanded his loyalty and commitment.

Victor just watches Yuuri’s back where it rises and falls with his breath. He’s incandescently happy and, even more than that, ridiculously and stupidly in love.

Yuuri shifts on the bed beside him, then quickly rolls over and faces Victor with a smile.

“Hi,” he says.

“Morning.” Victor scoots forward and kisses him. Yuuri ducks his head and snuggles underneath Victor’s chin, against his chest. Victor throws an arm over his and holds him tight. Is it possible for this to be every morning?

“Ugh, I don’t want to leave,” Yuuri complains.

“So don’t. Get breakfast with me.”

“Can’t. I’ve got an appointment at eleven, and it’s got to be close to ten.”

“Ten oh six, actually. You really have to leave?”

Yuuri rolls away and stretches. “Yes, I do. But we’ll set something up for dinner Monday, okay? I’ll see you after work.” He gets up on all fours and leans over to kiss Victor again. “Last night was possibly the most perfect night of my life. Thank you.”

Victor hums and kisses him again, tries to draw him down into something deeper, to convince him to stay. But Yuuri just chuckles against his mouth.

“No, my beauty,” he admonishes, and then kisses Victor’s nose. Victor just frowns, giving him an exaggerated pout. “No fair with the cute face. I’m not looking at the cute face, see, this is me, not looking,” Yuuri says, and rolls out of bed. He starts pulling on his clothes and then looks down. “Well, this is a definite walk of shame outfit,” he adds, with a lifted eyebrow, his gorgeous abs clearly visible behind the lace panel.  

“No shame in leaving my bed,” Victor says, and finally gets up to pull on a pair of pajama pants. Oh, Jesus. He needs a massage. A hot bath. Painkillers.  

“You okay?” Yuuri asks, concern furrowing his brow. “You’re looking pretty rough. Did I push too hard?” Yuuri starts looking him over, checking any bruises or scrapes he left, sighing if he finds something he’s not happy with.

Victor takes his hands. “I’m fine. Seriously. You’ve got to go or you’re going to be late. You’ve got to get changed. Oh, wait, here—“ Victor opens a drawer and pulls out his faded Stars on Ice 2006 tshirt and hands it over. It should fit him. “That way you’re not quite so conspicuous, if you like.”

Yuuri just stares at it. “I, um. Thank you.” He changes quickly and they leave the bedroom, only to hear the door unlock and Christophe quietly try to sneak in, wearing gym shorts and a tshirt, a bag in his hand.

He’s also covered in rope marks.

Victor and Yuuri grin at each other when he stops stock still at their appearance in the foyer. Busted.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to do an even worse walk of shame than me,” Yuuri says, and slowly walks over to give Chris an exaggerated inspection of his wrists. “Did you and Peach have a good time?”

Chris laughs. “You’ve got a lot of nerve _, cheri_ , considering the hickeys I can see all over Victor’s neck.”

Yuuri looks at Victor and they both jump and squeeze Chris in a hug at the same time. Chris just lets it happen, tries to hug back, and hisses. “Ow, darlings, watch it. I’ve got a few marks back there.”

“Oooooh,” Victor says. “Lemme see.”

“Okay, you guys, I’m going to leave you to compare notes,” Yuuri says, and Victor follows him to the door. “Bye, Victor. See you soon.”

Victor leans in and kisses him, a sweet press of lips that seems so innocent compared to what they’d been doing all night.

“Bye, my Yuuri. See you tomorrow.”

Yuuri smiles over his shoulder as the door closes, and Victor turns back to Chris.

“Really? You’d better start talking.”

Chris just holds up a hand. “Victor, my love, please, I just need a shower, and you look like you need a bath, and we’ll sit on your bed all day and sleep and talk. But first let’s clean up and order something in. I’m starving.”

“Fine, fine. Go shower. I’ll send out for pastries and coffee.”

Victor dials the concierge of their building and pays an outrageous price for a huge box of gourmet donuts and coffee, and then settles on his bed.  He starts scrolling through his twitter, and then the shower turns off. Strange, Chris just turned it on a couple of seconds ago.

“Victor,” Chris yells. “Open your goddamn Insta.”

Victor shrugs. He shut off all notifications ages and ages ago because he’d been swamped. He also hasn’t posted in a while, nor has he checked it in quite a few days. He opens the app and sees a fair number of notifications, and as he’s scrolling through Chris opens the door and drops onto his bed, wrapped in a towel.

“Have you found it yet?” he demands.

“What? No, not yet.” Victor keeps scrolling, and there, a notice that he’s been tagged by someone he doesn’t know. That’s strange, people don’t tag him often. It’s from over a week ago, and it’s a picture of him and Yuuri dancing their tango on a rainy New York sidewalk. It’s a nice picture, honestly, and he hadn’t noticed anyone taking pictures, which is worrying. But he’s not sure what the problem is.

“Look at the comments,” Chris urges, and as Victor scrolls, he can see lots of questions about Yuuri: who he is, where he’s from, if they’re friends, more than friends, lovers? Then he sees Chris has been tagged in a question, posted a few days ago:

_“Hey, @Christophe_gc, you’re there in NYC. Who is this guy?”_

And then, a few comments down, a reply, posted just yesterday: _“@salmonJerry: I think that’s Yuuri Katsuki. I’d almost swear to it. See:_ _[ http://skateblog.com/2010/10/Skate-America-thecompetitors.htm ](http://skateblog.com/2010/10/Skate-America-thecompetitors.htm) ” _

Victor and Chris just look at each other, and Victor clicks on the link with a shaking hand.

It brings up an archived article from the 2010 Skate America, the year of his second Grand Prix gold medal. It was his first competition of the season, and he’d just received his first huge endorsement from Nike, and he remembers being in such demand for interviews he didn’t see any part of the competition. He scrolls down the article, finding small little bios and interviews for the entire dozen competitors, including himself, and there, near the bottom, is competitor Yuuri Katsuki, of Detroit Skate Club, representing Japan.

Victor scans the words, barely comprehending what he’s reading. Yuuri, a skater. A competitor, with him.  And it’s definitely him. Victor couldn’t mistake those eyes.

His world is slowly cracking apart and then it suddenly clicks: his reaction to Victor’s safeword, his knowledge of Victor’s knee injury. His bruises. The choreography, the way he holds his body.  The strange reticence to talk about himself in any real detail.

“Let me see,” Chris says, and takes Victor’s phone from his numb fingers. “Holy shit, listen: ‘My inspiration has always been Victor Nikiforov. He’s why I started skating. I’m so happy to be on the same ice, and I hope I’m worthy of it.’ Oh my God, Victor. He finished next to last, bounced out, and, hang on, what I’m finding here says he quit. Left skating entirely that year and that’s the last anyone ever saw of him. I think…I think that’s the year before I met him.”

Victor thinks he’s going to throw up his own heart.

“Did you know?” Victor asks, shaky, teeth chattering.

“Oh, hell no. I had no clue. None.”

 _You’re mine_ , he hears, echoing in his head. A possessive, firm, clear statement that Victor had thought was born out of love.

But was it?

He had thought he’d found what he’d been searching for, all this time. Someone who values him as Victor, not the performer, not the artist. Not the Champion. Just Victor, the person who writes mediocre thrillers and likes pancakes and has an insatiable curiosity. The Victor who wanted nothing more than to kneel at Yuuri’s feet on Fridays and feel the rush of two fingers drawn in a long, straight line down his spine.

But it was all just a mirage. Yuuri had said that he’d wanted to meet him, be worthy of him, and he’d certainly taken the opportunity when he’d had it.

Victor chokes back a sob, can feel grief trying to claw its way out of his throat.  

“Oh, Victor,” Chris says, softly, carefully, and Victor can’t hold on any longer, can’t contain the fear and devastation and heartbreak, throws his arms around Chris and bursts out crying.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's Shirt: https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1aOmDLXXXXXaeapXXq6xXFXXXE/2016-New-Autumn-Mens-Lace-Shirt-Black-and-White-Long-Sleeve-Mens-See-Through-Transparent-Shirt.jpg
> 
> Victor's Shirt: https://www.aliexpress.com/store/product/Men-Transparent-Shirts-Half-Sleeve-Summer-Shirts-Sexy-Black-White-Chiffon-Lance-Splicing-Vintage-Style-Shirts/2683030_32773212074.html
> 
> Victor's Mask: https://img0.etsystatic.com/067/0/8087274/il_570xN.799111532_2xf1.jpg


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor runs his hand through his hair and cradles his hand against the back of his neck, eyes closed. “You know for a fact that’s a jump in figure skating, don’t you?”
> 
> The cold fear in Yuuri’s stomach turns to jagged, sharp ice. “What—what do you mean?” he croaks.
> 
> “You knew, then, too. You have known for years, Yuuri Katsuki. Japan’s former rising star, a Junior champion. A Grand Prix competitor of mine, once, a long time ago.” Victor drops these words casually, and every one is a devastating blow to Yuuri’s heart.
> 
> He knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Liz and AND for such great beta! They've stuck it out this long and I'm so honestly indebted to them for it.
> 
> Thank you, too, readers! All of your comments have really made this a fun ride. I love talking about these two! They're so adorable.
> 
> And, last but not least: Happy Birthday to Pati79, someone I've known now for over half a decade, and a sweeter, funnier, smarter woman you'll never meet in fandom anywhere. I hope this is a good present for you, dear. <3

 

Yuuri stows his skates in his locker and clangs it shut, clips on the lock and pushes his way through the door back into the main lobby. The young juniors, those just starting their competitive careers, are chattering and laughing as they gather all of their gear—skates, gloves, jackets—and stuff it into ridiculously oversized skate bags with light up wheels that every single parent has managed to buy them.

“Thank you again, Mr. Katsuki!” Elena calls, and waves from her perch on the bench across the lobby. Elena is twelve years old and finally able to compete, and Yuuri just gave her, her parents, and her coach what they all hope is a successful debut program, set to a gently lilting recording of Chopin’s Spring Waltz.

Yuuri waves in return, and quirks the corner of his mouth at the rush of giggling from all of Elena’s friends. She blushes scarlet and shushes the lot of them, and Yuuri just shakes his head. He’s used to it. The ramp-up to puberty throws hormones in a whirl, and crushes flare up left and right, especially on young, former-professional skaters turned choreographers.

Yuuri briefly wonders what would happen if he brought Victor here, to Sky Rink, at eleven on a Sunday morning. He’s fairly sure the whole lot of them would either pass out or panic, save maybe 14 year old  Owen, who would probably immediately demand Victor show him how to do a quad since no one else will. But Victor, he knows Victor would turn on the charm, have the entire group of them eating out of the palm of his hand in a heartbeat. He’d probably perform for them, run them all through their programs and critique and correct and tease. It would be the best day of their skating lives.

Yuuri chuckles at the thought as he walks out into the brilliant summer sun. He’s achy and tired and still feeling the press of Victor’s body to his, his scent clinging to Yuuri’s body like a ghost. He’d changed out of Victor’s Skate America shirt for one in his locker, but he still has it in his bag, hidden away like a sweet little secret. Not a secret for much longer, though. He wants to share this part of himself with Victor, this tentative détente he’s found with skating, to explain to him what it means to still be part of the world they share.

He ducks into Starbucks and sips an iced coffee as he walks toward home, the long distance giving him a good chance to cool down and work some muscles that are a bit stiff and sore yet from last night. As he crosses 5 th Avenue near the south end of the Park he stops to wait for a Park Slope mom to maneuver her massive twin stroller up and over the curb, and as he glances to the side, he realizes he’s standing next to Cartier. And in the window is the most perfect, most exquisite gold choker necklace he’s ever seen.

It’s a simple, flat circlet of shining fourteen carat gold with an adjustable buckle clasp, but in that moment Yuuri can see the gold band circling Victor’s slim, white throat, can feel the press of it under his fingers as he wraps his hand around the back of Victor’s neck as he fucks his mouth. 

A sign. A symbol to show Victor, and the rest of the world, that Victor is the only one for Yuuri. Always. 

Maybe forever. 

He’s never wanted something so badly in his entire life, and if he has to drop his next share of the house payment in Cartier, so be it. 

He goes inside.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

_ Yuuri  8:16AM _

_ Sorry it’s so early, my beauty. Today still okay for dinner? 6pm here? I am ordering in. _

_ Yuuri 9:40AM _

_ <3 Don’t get caught up in writing and forget to tell me about tonight! <3 _

_ Yuuri 11:58AM _

_ *poke* I’m ordering you snails if you don’t tell me if it’s okay. If you need to cancel that’s fine. _

_ From Victor 2:15PM _

_ It’s fine. See you then. _

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Yuuri exhales in relief as soon as he reads Victor’s text, then panic ramps up again as he realizes he needs to take off a bit early to set up the dining room for tonight. He signs off of his work account, launches himself downstairs and realizes the dining room is a complete mess: piles of bills and a couple of boxes of clothes they were supposed to put out for charity a few months ago on the table, a tangle of ropes they were supposed to sort through on the floor. Yuuri curses his own procrastination and just takes the entire pile of bills off in one sweep into an empty bag, shoves the ropes on top, and takes it and the boxes of clothes and shoves them into the hall closet. 

He then dusts and cleans until the antique table is shining and the tall windows of the room sparkle and glow with the late afternoon sun. Six pm in early July is still too light, honestly, but no romantic— _ proposal? It is, and you know it is _ —dinner is complete without candles, so he digs around in the china cabinet and finds the huge, heavy silver candelabra Phichit saw in a thrift store in the Hamptons and paid a stupid price for but looks hot in the playroom when they’re doing a bit of a show.

He puts it in the center of the big oak table and adds five long, white, tapered candles, sets the table with the silver plate chargers and wine glasses, and steps back, slightly exhausted and a bit sweaty.

With the candles lit against the sunset the walls will glow an ethereal moss green, all the better to highlight Victor’s gorgeous coloring. It’s as romantic and perfect a scene as Yuuri can imagine, and he slips upstairs to take a shower and dress, putting on a black slim shirt with silver buttons and leaving his hair to dry in its more natural, tousled state. No makeup tonight. He keeps his glasses on and looks at himself critically in the mirror.

Just Yuuri as he is. Nothing more, nothing less. His home, his life. Everything. They’ll talk about everything tonight.

He pads downstairs and places the black velvet box holding the hope of his heart on the corner of the table, and waits for the doorbell to ring.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

6:00 pm.

6:05 pm.

6:10 pm.

6:12 pm and the doorbell finally rings, and Yuuri leaps off of the sofa and yanks the door open to find Victor looking pale and serious on the other side. 

“Hi,” Yuuri says, immediately cautious. “Come in?”

Victor’s forehead scrunches but he slips inside as Yuuri closes the door behind him. He has his hands in his pockets and is looking down at the floor, and Yuuri is so thrown for a loop he doesn’t know quite what to do with this strange turn in his expectations for the evening. Yuuri gets the feeling a kiss would be extremely unwelcome, as would just about anything else. Tension is rolling from the line of Victor’s shoulders, his posture awkwardly stiff and uncertain.

“Do you need something, my beauty?” Yuuri asks quietly, dropping into the softest, most confident voice he can find in the maze of his confusion. If Victor is struggling with another bout of subdrop after the party, Yuuri realizes he needs to help him quickly. Yuuri puts a hand on his shoulder, but snaps it back when Victor flinches. “What’s wrong?”

Victor lifts his chin and narrows his eyes. “Salchow,” he says, and the word rings clear as a bell in the echoing space of the narrow hall, bouncing from the paneled walls.

“I’m...Okay, I’m here, Victor,” Yuuri says, and his stomach churns with a cold rush of fear. “It’s just me. No playtime. What’s going on?”

Victor runs his hand through his hair and cradles his hand against the back of his neck, eyes closed. “You know for a fact that’s a jump in figure skating, don’t you?”

The cold fear in Yuuri’s stomach turns to jagged, sharp ice. “What—what do you mean?” he croaks.

“You knew, then, too. You have known for years, Yuuri Katsuki. Japan’s former rising star, a Junior champion. A Grand Prix competitor of mine, once, a long time ago.” Victor drops these words casually, and every one is a devastating blow to Yuuri’s heart. 

He knows. He found out before Yuuri could tell him, as he planned to do in oh, maybe half an hour. 

Victor opens his eyes and stares daggers, and Yuuri can’t breathe, can feel panic rising, swirling in his chest and filling his ears.  Victor has found out, and all Yuuri can do is watch it all collapse around him.

“How?” Yuuri says in a whisper, and as Victor approaches Yuuri can feel the solid wood door as he backs into it. 

“Funny, when we danced that tango it didn’t really cross my mind that someone might have a camera, but of course they did. And they took a great picture of us. People were curious as to who you were, and it’s amazing what you can find on the internet these days.” Victor digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “My dream is to skate on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov. He’s my ideal of what skating should be.” he reads, and Yuuri slides down the door and ends up in a heap on the floor.

He’s going to be sick. “Victor, please, I can explain—”

Victor stands over him now, legs splayed, arms crossed. He looks furious and hurt, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Yuuri can see clearly now that he’s been crying, and Yuuri can feel his own tears welling up at how badly he’s fucked this up, how terribly he’s hurt the person he …he…

…loves.

Oh, God.

“So, did you manage to fulfill all your little fantasies, then?” Victor says, and the words are stilted, twisted around hitching breaths.  Yuuri shakes his head vehemently.

“No, I swear it wasn’t about that. I just, I knew I should have told you right away, but I was so scared and I didn’t know how you’d react. I tried to tell you a couple of times, but it never was the right time, or something came up, and we were having so much fun together, Victor.” Yuuri stands and steps forward, hand outstretched. If Yuuri could just hug him, hold him, cry into his shoulder, beg his forgiveness on his knees. Anything. He almost touches Victor’s wrist but Victor moves back a single step, out of his reach. Yuuri nods, understanding, and takes a breath. “We were so happy, and I didn’t want to ruin everything. And the more it went on the worse it got. Everything I’ve learned about you these last six weeks I’d never have known. Everything new and wonderful and perfect about you, and …and about us. The two of us.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No! No, I never lied, I told you I knew who you were—”

Victor rolls his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Yuuri!” he snaps. “Oh, ‘I may have googled’? You could have said! You could have told me!”  

“I couldn’t!” Yuuri pleads, and tries to make his traitorous body hold his head up so he can at least look Victor in the eye. “I mean, I could, but I was so embarrassed! I was awful when you’re so amazing and I knew you’d think I was some freak stalker—”

“Which is why you should have told me! You made me…want all of these things, things I never thought I’d want! And even now, I—” Victor sucks in a breath and turns away, head bowed.

As if he were ashamed of them. As if Yuuri made him feel those things without his own conscious participation. Yuuri can feel the fire of a fight ramping up, and it thaws the ice that’s been holding him in check. He might have started this by being in the wrong, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let anyone make him feel bad for who he is and the things he wants. 

“You don’t get to say that,” he counters, voice steady. “You came to me. You and Chris asked me to train you, and I know the difference between someone who’s actually a sub and someone faking it, or fighting it. And you sure as hell weren’t faking it. And,” Yuuri says, really starting to find his footing now, “You wanted to touch me first. You asked me out first. You wanted to kiss me first. I let you come to me this whole time, let you initiate everything! So you think this is just me manipulating your feelings, too? Is nothing you feel for me real, then?” 

“No, that’s not true,” Victor says, and heartbreak colors his voice. “I feel too much for you for it not to be real.”

Yuuri chokes on his own breath at this admission. “But you think so little of my principles that you think I’d somehow make you do things you didn’t really want to do.”

Victor flinches at the last, and Yuuri wonders if this is the end of them, because now his anger at himself is tinged with the searing pain of betrayal. In all of his years as a dominant, he’d never abused the trust placed in his hands by his submissives. What they do together is consensual, it must be, and Yuuri is crushed that Victor would believe otherwise.  And yet, isn’t this exactly the outcome he was afraid of?

“I don’t…I don’t think that you’d do anything on purpose…” Victor starts.

“But my crazy obsession might be clouding my judgment, is that it?”  _ If you’d only told him at the start this all could have been avoided, _ his mind singsongs at him.

“Maybe! How would I know, since you never gave me the chance to figure it out for myself?”

And there it is. Yuuri clenches his eyes closed, fists at his sides. “Okay. That’s fair.” Yuuri can see right through the living room to the dining room, and the small black velvet box mocking him from the corner of the table. The tears finally well up and spill over his cheeks.  

Victor just stares, chest heaving like he’s trying not to completely break down, face flushed. He swipes at his eyes again, and Yuuri does the same. 

“I don’t know what else to say,” Yuuri says, slowly, because this feels like the smoldering end of a flash fire and it would only take a wrong breath to send it back into a conflagration. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I’d told you right away, like Phichit told me to do. I wish I’d never skated in the first place to make this a problem, but everything I’ve ever done has led me to you, and I wouldn’t ever change that.  But can I please have another chance? Please, my beauty.” Yuuri tries once more to reach out, to take Victor into his arms and soothe away the hurt he’s caused. To drown himself in Victor’s embrace and find a way to make amends for ever hurting someone he … he loves, so very much. He’ll let go of everything Victor has said to him if he gets that chance, will talk through it and figure out what he truly wants, but he can’t do that if Victor gives up on this, on them. If he vanishes back into the life he had before, where Yuuri knew nothing whatsoever about him but his name. Because now he does. Now he knows and it will haunt him, waking and sleeping.

Victor shakes his head, jaw set, the tracks of tears sparkling again on his cheeks. “No,” he says. “You don’t get to call me that. I need some time. Goodbye, Yuuri,” he says, and steps past Yuuri to pull the door open and walk through, closing it carefully behind him.

Yuuri stands there, stunned, then abruptly strides to the playroom door and makes his way downstairs on shaky legs. He sinks onto the lounge and covers his face with his hands. He can feel his heart cracking apart, love and loss pouring out in a torrent of tears. “I love you, Victor,” he says, and the first time he’s given voice to the words they echo in the dark, silent playroom. “I love you,” he sobs, and curls onto his side on the lounge and lets the pain take him.

……………………………………………………………………………………

He’s not sure how long he’s there, but he’s stiff and cold when he feels another body sit down next to him on the lounge. 

It’s Phichit.

Yuuri turns over and buries his face against his friend’s leg, “Oh, sweetheart,” Phichit says, and gathers him into his arms. He rocks him gently and presses his cheek to the top of Yuuri’s head. “Chris texted. God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’m so stupid,” Yuuri says. “I can’t believe how fucking stupid I am.”

“You’re not stupid. You worry. You were afraid. Sometimes we’re all afraid. It’s okay. It will be okay. Just give him some time to process and you can try again. He loves you, Yuuri. I know he does.”

“He’s going to hate me forever, Peach.” Yuuri sniffles and sits up, fighting off a wave of dizziness as he does so. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“Well,” Phichit says, and brushes Yuuri’s hair back from his forehead. “You’re going to come up and have some ice cream with me and we’re going to watch Army of Darkness, then you’re going to sleep. You’re going to get your head together and we’re going to figure out how to get you back your man. Okay?”

Yuuri chuckles, weary. He knows Phichit is trying to cheer him up, but he’s not going to get his man back, he knows that. 

Victor wasn’t really his in the first place. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

_ Interlude - Victor _

“No, you’re not going to sit around and stuff your face with donuts and listen to George Michael on repeat while crying. I forbid it.” 

Victor flops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. It’s been two days since he and Yuuri argued at his house, and Victor is torn – part of him is still longing for Yuuri, and the other is still completely, utterly, and vehemently  _ pissed off _ .  “Fuck you, Chris. He’s a lying jerk, and you know it.”

“No, prima donna, I don’t know it. Because I know Yuuri, and he’s not like that. He never has been. So quit acting like a goddamn child and listen to what the man actually had to say, which was, oh, I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry, Victor, I fucked up  _ because I was scared of you acting exactly like you are right now _ ,’ you absolute twat. I can’t believe you accused him of tricking you into being a sub. Fuck, you really are a shithead when you want to be.” Chris yanks on the duvet and pulls Victor off the bed and onto floor with a thump.

“God, fuck, what are you doing?” Victor rubs his elbow. Why does everyone hate him so much?

“Saving your disgusting ass from marinating in your own stench any longer. You’re getting in the shower and then you’re coming with me to Boston for a few days.”

“Chrisss, noooooooo.”

Chris thumps him in the face with a pile of clothes. “Chris yessssss, so go get in the shower before I drag you there. Come on. Stop dwelling on it and let it go for a bit. I can almost guarantee that you’ll have a better perspective in a day or two and then you guys can make up.”

Victor digs his heels in and looks up at his friend, his best friend who is really only trying to cheer him up and make him feel better, though he’s sort of bad at it. “It’s not that simple. I wish it were, but it’s not. He lied to me. He lied, and he knew he lied, and he let me fall in love with him knowing he lied, and…” Victor trails off, considering. Even after only six or so weeks, he knows. He’s in love with a man he likely won’t ever have again, because he could get past the hiding part, sure, eventually. But the look on Yuuri’s face when Victor said that he was the one who made Victor want to submit, who basically manipulated him into their relationship…that’s the sort of thing that leaves scars, too.

Fuck fuck fuck goddammit  _ fuck. _ He’s too old to be this clueless about relationships. 

Victor grabs the pile of clothes and stalks off to the bathroom. “Okay,” he yells over the running shower. “I’ll go to Boston. But you’d better not drag me out to some stupid club.”

“Okay, sure,” Chris yells.

Which is, of course exactly what Chris does. Over the pulse and thrum of deep, heart-thudding music and the buzz of hundreds of voices Victor’s nodding along to something Chris’s friend Max’s friend Alexi said, while at the same time trying to keep Alexi’s hand off of his thigh in the corner booth of a dance club at 1am on Friday.

“Having fun?” Chris says, as he comes back from the dance floor and swipes the last of Victor’s mojito. 

“Not really,” Victor replies, a rictus grin on his face. “I can’t do this, Chris, really. Ugh, God, will you  _ stop that _ ?” Alexi had snuck his hand up the back of Victor’s shirt, fingers trailing along Victor’s waistband. It’s just too much, too close to the feel of Yuuri’s fingers as they’d make their way down his spine and he’d just melt, sink into himself and let Yuuri take care of him for the night. He aches for that touch now, for the quiet assurance of Yuuri’s voice and hands, for the elegant and beautiful line of his body. For his bright laugh and sweet smile. 

No, he knows Yuuri didn’t force these feelings on him. He saw in Victor a reflection of himself, he knew what Victor needed and helped him find his way there. Victor had never felt so utterly satisfied, so craved, so wanted. So cared about. And instead of thinking about what Yuuri meant by saying he was scared, was afraid of telling Victor something he found embarrassing, Victor just thought of himself and what that meant for  _ him _ .

He’s honestly a fucking awful boyfriend.

“We need to go back to New York,” he yells in Chris’s ear. Chris smirks and nods, and shoves the random guy who was hanging over his back off with a “Sorry, we’re out,” and follows Victor toward the door. 

“I knew you’d eventually see it my way,” Chris says, and shepherds them both to a taxi. “We’ve got tickets for a train back later this morning.”

Victor huffs a laugh. Seems like he’s not so bad at cheering Victor up after all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Yuuri sweeps into an elegant spread eagle at Sky Rink, letting sorrow and sadness draw his limbs into effortless long lines, the quiet shush of his blades against the ice almost lulling his heart to quietude. 

The ice has ever been this way, both a comfort and a terror, the source of his great joys and biggest disappointments. But he returns to it like a lover, lets it embrace him and welcome him home, even if the last thing he thought he wanted was to be reminded of an ice rink, ever again.

Victor. Five days on, the thought of him beats at Yuuri’s mind like a refrain, until as the clock crept closer and closer to seven on Friday Yuuri couldn’t stand it any longer, couldn’t wait for the moment that wouldn’t come, where he’d descend to the playroom and find Victor stripped and waiting for him, for his touch. 

He knows Victor wanted it as much as he did. He knows that whatever else passed between them, that whatever else Yuuri did or didn’t say, Victor’s body never lied, and that body wanted him.

Even from across the empty ice, practically abandoned in the summer, he can hear the quiet click of a skate meeting surface, and when he looks up to see what other poor soul had to spend their Friday night alone skating, he almost trips on his toe pick.

It’s Victor.

Yuuri stops dead on the far side of the rink. He can’t move, can’t breathe. It’s Victor, and he pushes off to glide along the edge, toward Yuuri. But he doesn’t call out. Doesn’t greet him. Only stares, intent, as Yuuri pushes off as well, keeping a rink’s worth of distance between them as they circle. Yuuri isn’t sure of his reasons for being here, but given the utter silence on the phone this week, it might be best to let him come to Yuuri in his own time.

If he ever does.

So Yuuri carefully breathes through his nose and keeps his eye on Victor, keeps the distance between them. He’s too terrified to do much other than skate straight forward, simple laps around the rink as Victor does the same. It’s slow, measured, a feeling out of boundaries—but then Victor slips ever so slightly closer in orbit, his long, long legs executing a quick bracket turn that leaves him just that bit closer to the center of the ice.

Yuuri mirrors him, edges just that slight bit inward, and like twin suns they orbit each other, gravity drawing them closer. Yuuri does a few twizzles as he crosses Victor’s gaze, trying to show him that yes, this is part of him, too. That as much as he regrets what he’d failed to say, that he understands why it was so important Victor know this, know about their shared love.

There’s a moment when Victor’s eyes meet his, as they both cross over and come within just a few meters of each other, a flash of recognition in Victor’s eyes that says yes.  _ Yes, I see you. Like recognizes like, not just in this, but in all things.  _

Yuuri swallows down his nervousness and waits until they swirl ever closer and Yuuri drops all pretense, all fear and pushes into as elegant a scratch spin as he can manage, elegantly rotated, not too fast but not sloppy, and when he finally pulls out of the spin and stops, Victor has stopped, too, and is watching him intently.

“You know, I was sort of hoping it wasn’t true,” Victor says.

Yuuri swallows. “You knew it was.”

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’d left that sort of thing behind, become someone who, amazingly, has something you wanted.  Something I thought I could offer you and you would respect. Can you blame me for not wanting you to look down on me?”

Victor shakes his head. “Never. I never have, Yuuri. Not once. And I wouldn’t have back then, either.”

“But you still thought I’d somehow … made you feel those things. Made you submit to me.” Yuuri says this in a whisper, something so quiet only they can hear, as close as they are.

“I didn’t … I was wrong to say that. I know I was wrong. I was just unsure, and … upset. I’m so very sorry, Yuuri. I’m sure you must have felt everything you had been worried about had come true.” Victor looks down and commits the unforgivable sin of digging his toepick into the ice. His fingers are twisted up in the bottom of his jacket, and Yuuri fights the urge to bat them away.  “I’m sure you probably hate me, now. I should have listened more carefully to you. But I was afraid, too.”

Silence descends around them for a moment, then:  “I just wasn’t sure who I fell in love with.”

Yuuri can feel trembling start in his shoulders, his arms, his fingers. “I am who I am now. Not who I was then.” Yuuri shakes his head. This isn’t coming out clearly at all. “I’m Yuuri. I’m an app developer. I’m a choreographer for very young Juniors sometimes. I still skate a few times a week. I nailed a triple axel the other week but totally failed a lutz and bruised the shit out of my hip. I am who I’ve always been.”

Yuuri skates closer and slowly, carefully, raises one gloved and trembling hand to Victor’s face. Victor doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away, and when Yuuri cups his jaw he closes his eyes. 

“I’m also a Dominant, someone who wants the control to take you apart and put you back together.” Victor shivers, slightly, but Yuuri can feel the slightest relaxation against his palm. “And the Victor I’m in love with is…is the Victor I met now. Not the legend. Victor Nikiforov, the novelist. The goofball with a ridiculous sense of humor. The one who never lets me get away with taking myself too seriously. Victor, who is sometimes rather happy to be told what to do, who likes to please, who needs a rest once in a while.”

Victor nods against his palm and Yuuri’s heart is racing, throbbing in his chest. He needs to be sure, needs everything as completely clear as he can make it.

He slides to his knees on the ice and bows his head.

“Please forgive me, Victor. I’m begging you.”

To his utter shock, Victor kneels as well, fits a hand under Yuuri’s chin and lifts it until they’re gazing into each other’s eyes. Victor smiles, gently. “Only if you forgive me, too.”

Yuuri can feel his chin waver and tears course down his cheeks as Victor lowers his mouth to Yuuri’s and kisses him, right there in the center of the rink. Yuuri can’t help it; his crying turns into the relieved bubble of laughter as they kiss each other’s tears away with gentle touches, the ice a welcoming, familiar comfort under their bodies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Victor's Collar](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=99683590)
> 
>  
> 
> [Victor's George Michael on repeat Jam - Kissing a Fool](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuf30dxaY0U)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please say what you said earlier,” Victor whispers when he pulls back for breath. Yuuri’s eyes are huge in the darkness of the hall, and his forehead creases with a question. “Back on the ice. When you said you’d fallen in love with me.”
> 
> Yuuri’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, yes. Yes. God yes, Victor,” he says. “I’d not really wanted to tell you that way, but god yes.” He lifts his eyes to Victor’s and smiles. “I love you. I want you. I’m so out of my mind about you I just fucked you in the hall of my house and we broke a seventeenth century Arita bowl doing it and I don’t care in the least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG the fact Liz (pursuitofnerdiness) and A_N_D looked at this within, like, hours of me sending it is probably the best most wonderful thing I could have asked for. THANK YOU.

Victor’s heart soars in his chest when Yuuri’s lips touch his, brushing delicately against his cheeks, kissing away tears. He hears Yuuri take a hiccupping breath, followed by an aborted and shaky laugh, and Victor just wraps his arms around Yuuri’s body and holds him tighter.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

Yuuri nods against his chest. “It’s only been a week, though. I feel so stupid for missing you so much.” 

“I never want to have a week like that again. Not ever.” Victor shifts on his protesting knees. “But we should probably get up, my lovely Yuuri. I’m getting too old to kneel like this.” 

He realizes what he’s said too late, and Yuuri lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, I beg to differ,” he says, dryly.

Victor barks out a laugh and helps Yuuri to his feet, and holds his hand as they skate to the boards and step off the ice. He watches as Yuuri wipes down his blades and puts on his guards, movements quick and sure and practiced. 

Yuuri catches him watching and glances down, cheeks pink.

“I’m still sorry,” he says, quietly.

Victor immediately takes that warm face in his hands and kisses Yuuri softly. “I know. I know. We should talk about it more. But watching you skate…honestly, I’m so happy I can share this with you. You can understand so much more about my life and my experiences. And it makes me feel like I understand you, too.”

“We should go find somewhere to talk,” Yuuri says. “I don’t  think…ah. I mean, maybe we could go get coffees and take a walk and we could just. Talk. If you want.”

Yes, neutral ground is probably best for the sorts of conversations they need to have, somewhere, Victor realizes with a strange hit of clarity, where Yuuri won’t feel hemmed in or cornered or trapped by Victor into talking to him.

Somewhere he can be in control.

So Victor steers them to a local hipster coffee shop he found on one of his many walks to and from Sky Rink, and they sip their drinks as they wander slowly in the direction of Yuuri and Phichit’s townhouse. 

It’s a beautiful night, breezy and warm, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going out on Friday after a long week, dressed up or not, in groups or alone. The sound of the city hums around him, energetic and electric, and Victor thinks, not for the first time, he could live here permanently.

Victor watches Yuuri out of the corner of his eye. If anything, he looks even more beautiful than the last time Victor saw him, disheveled and warm with smudged eyeliner and the dark bruise of a lovebite on his shoulder.  He’s poised and graceful, the street lights bright on his cheeks, his dark eyes in shadow and almost unfathomable. There’s so much they should probably say, so much they’ve done and said between then and now, but all Victor can see is the crease at the corner of Yuuri’s eye when he smiles.

“What?” Yuuri says. “You’ve been staring for the last five minutes.”

Victor is caught off guard. “Oh, um. Sorry. I just honestly don’t know where to start.” Victor takes a sip to buy himself some time. 

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “I’m going to assume you’ve seen Skate America 2010.”

Ah. Straight to the point, as always. “I have.”

“Then you realize why I stopped skating after that.”

“Well, I won’t deny it wasn’t the best performance you’ve given,” Victor starts, and Yuuri whips his head around to look at him. “What? Of course I’ve watched others. One skate doesn’t make a career, Yuuri. You know this.”

“No, but I wasn’t going to make it much further. I also know that.” Yuuri takes a sip of his iced coffee and doesn’t say another word. Victor wonders if binge watching every single video he could find on the internet of Yuuri’s skating was actually a bad idea, after all. But he couldn’t help himself, and he’d watched each with a professional eye. Each gorgeous step sequence, each perfectly centered spin thrilled him, and every fall made him ache. But he could see flashes of genius there, raw talent waiting for the chance to bloom.

It’s quieter as they near the neighborhood around Yuuri’s house. Victor wonders if they’re going to talk more. If he should say more. Say less. Leave altogether. Then Yuuri stops in the middle of the sidewalk and pitches his coffee into a nearby trash can. Tension lines his shoulders, his mouth set, and Victor braces himself. 

“All I’d ever wanted to do was skate on the same ice with you,” Yuuri says, and defiantly looks him in the eye. “Show you what I was made of. Impress you, maybe. And it was the worst performance I’d ever given, instead, and I never even got to introduce myself to you. I had a complete breakdown. I spent weeks after that holed up in my room until Phichit dragged me out and sent me to a psychologist. And after a while and a whole lot of therapy I felt better, and I realized the reason I felt better was that I wasn’t competing any more. That skating wasn’t controlling my life. I’d finally let go.”

Victor’s heart aches for the beauty he’s seen in those videos, the grace with which Yuuri dances across the ice. “But, you have the talent. I’ve seen it. Maybe with better facilities, or better coaching…”

“No. I can’t go down that path. I can’t think about the what ifs.” Yuuri approaches him and studies his face, and Victor feels pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze. “To manage my anxiety I learned to control what I could and let go of the rest, and over time I figured out I wanted to control the almost uncontrollable. Make sense of all the variables life throws at you, up to and including those I shared my body with.” 

Victor nods, and the flashes of understanding he’d had over the last few hours coalesce into a full picture of someone with drive and talent but also anxiety, someone who’d looked up to Victor as an ideal to reach but had to reevaluate his entire life’s work in the space of a few months. Yuuri had reinvented himself, created a life that was his alone. Victor’s life, until his retirement, was one straight line from competition to competition without deviation from that path, and he can’t imagine the strength it took to do what Yuuri has done. 

He shakes his head. “I hate that you had to go through what you did, Yuuri. I really admire you for it, but I hate that you’d felt so trapped.”

“I used to feel sad about it, sometimes. but I don’t now.” Yuuri cups a hand under Victor’s jaw. “If the entire arc of my life has led me to this moment with you, I’d never change it. Not for anything.”

Victor can feel his eyes burning with unshed tears as he wraps his arms around Yuuri’s back and pulls him in for a kiss: a gentle, measured thing that flutters in Victor’s heart. He slants his mouth more deeply across Yuuri’s and tastes the dip of his upper lip, feels the heat of his breath as they fit more closely together, Yuuri’s tshirt soft and warm under Victor’s fingertips. 

Eventually they break apart and Yuuri tucks his head under Victor’s chin. “I should probably go home,” Yuuri says. “I didn’t mean to take you from whatever you’d had planned tonight.”

Victor kisses the top of his head. “Yuuri, I’d drop everything for just a minute with you.”

“Stop.”

“No. I’m serious. And I still haven’t apologized properly.” Victor steps back and tilts Yuuri’s chin up. “I was angry and afraid and I lashed out at you.  I know you weren’t exploiting the situation. It was pure coincidence we found each other.  You gave me every opportunity to decide what I wanted for myself, and I chose you, every time.” Victor tilts his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I still choose you,” he whispers. 

Yuuri loses his composure then, they both do, and Victor can taste tears as they kiss again, and laugh, and hold each other. Victor finally can feel the tension in his chest ease for the first time in a week, able to breathe easily and feel the warmth of Yuuri’s touch welcoming him back right where he belongs.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Yuuri’s front door looms large in the night, a barrier between them that Victor isn’t sure they should try breaching just yet. They’re pressed together on Yuuri’s front doorstep, arms looped around each other’s waists, and the delicious heat of Yuuri’s body is seeping through Victor’s clothes and making him sweat.

“I’m, ah. I guess I should say goodnight and let you go home,” Yuuri fumbles, a blush high on his cheeks. “But I’d like to go out again tomorrow?”

Victor nods. “Yes, please. I can come back first thing in the morning for breakfast. Maybe we can go back out for pancakes?” He can hear his voice crack a little on the last word and he winces. He can feel desire stirring under his skin, but he’s not going to bring it up, not now, not when they just finally talked out all of the things they’d misunderstood before. Everything feels just so delicate, so blushingly new, and Victor isn’t going to do anything to screw it up.

But…perhaps just another kiss wouldn’t hurt. Victor leans down and presses a lingering kiss to Yuuri’s mouth, a kiss that gradually turns deeper and more heated until Yuuri’s tongue licks at his lower lip. Victor sucks in a quick breath but goes with it, gives Yuuri a teasing nip, and reluctantly pulls away before things really get out of hand. 

“Wow,” Victor says, then chuckles. “I really should probably go now, I guess. I mean. Um.” Victor’s heart skitters in his chest, because he can feel the tension building between them, the attraction that simmers behind every interaction they’ve ever had, and he swallows heavily and kisses Yuuri’s forehead. Yuuri just closes his eyes and breathes out heavily through his nose.

“Goodnight,” Yuuri says, and steps backward, his fingers slowly dragging their way along Victor’s waist as he goes. He smiles at Victor, a sweet, somewhat reluctant thing, then climbs the stairs and unlocks the door. 

Victor’s pulse flutters. “Bye,” he says, again. Yuuri opens the door and slips inside, but he keeps eye contact with Victor as the door slowly closes. Victor sighs, then turns to walk down the sidewalk. If he’s lucky he’ll find a cab, but otherwise he’ll just walk. He probably should walk, just to shake off the arousal that’s burning its way through his veins, memories of Yuuri’s fingers dragging down his spine at the front of his mind, the sweet pressure of restraint against his shoulders as Yuuri fucks him, slowly.

No.

He stops about halfway down the block. This is insane. What on Earth is he doing? He can’t leave Yuuri now, he doesn’t  _ want _ to. He wants everything Yuuri can give him, and if Yuuri’s reluctance to stop touching him earlier is any indication, he’s probably thinking the same thing, but was trying to restrain himself for Victor’s sake.  Just like Victor was trying to restrain himself for Yuuri’s. 

Fuck, they’re both idiots. Victor turns on his heel and runs as quickly as he can back to Yuuri’s townhouse, darts up the stairs, and hammers on the front door. 

The door almost immediately swings open, Yuuri’s face a picture of relief. Victor dives for him, his hands on either side of Yuuri’s face and his lips on his in a fierce kiss that he’s fairly sure is going to leave them both bruised and happy tomorrow. Yuuri drags him inside with a fist in his shirt and kicks the door closed before shoving Victor up against it, his legs bracketing Victor’s and his already hard cock digging into Victor’s hip.

“Fuck,” Yuuri pants. “Thank fuck you came back, I was about to run after you.”

Victor mouths his way down Yuuri’s neck, reveling in Yuuri’s gasp. “Nnngh. God, I want you. Miss you.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, and drops to his knees and nuzzles into Victor’s groin through his soft track pants, one arm braced across Victor’s waist and holding him fast to the door. Victor’s buzzing with arousal, his entire body trembling with the anticipation of Yuuri’s touch. Yuuri lifts Victor’s shirt and presses soft kisses to his stomach before circling Victor’s belly button with his tongue and Victor gasps and throws his head back, knocking it painfully against the wood. He ignores the flare of pain in favor of watching Yuuri’s eyes flare with heat.

“Can I?” Yuuri asks, tracing a finger along his waistband. “God, please let me suck you off.”

Victor’s knees go weak and he starts to slide down the door, but Yuuri holds him up. “Please,” he whimpers. He threads his hands into Yuuri’s hair as Yuuri drags his pants and underwear down, Victor’s cock almost embarrassingly hard in the cool air of the hall. Yuuri blinks up at him, and a dirty smirk is all the warning Victor gets before Yuuri slips his lips over the head of Victor’s cock and swallows him almost to the base in one move.

“Holy fuck,” Victor gasps, because that’s the sort of thing that’s dragged right out of Victor’s fantasies and made real right in front of his eyes. He throws one hand out to steady himself against a small table next to the door but as he does, the porcelain bowl sitting on top slides across the wood and shatters on the floor.

“Fuck, sorry, just. God. Keep doing that,” Victor moans, and Yuuri ignores it and sucks down further. Victor pushes up to meet him and can feel Yuuri’s throat constrict as he swallows. Yuuri’s mouth is sweet, wet pressure as he bobs, and Victor can’t help but thrust up again into that welcoming heat. 

“This okay?” Victor says, and Yuuri pulls off.

“Green,” he says with a wink before diving back down, and Victor damn near comes right on the spot.

But then, oh, then, Yuuri slips his knuckles behind Victor’s balls and presses up, and the orgasm he’d been trying so hard to stave off hits him like an exploding star, his moans echoing off the high ceiling of the entrance hall.

Yuuri sucks as he draws back, locking eyes with Victor as he does so, and Victor realizes with a start that Yuuri is still holding his mouthful. Victor’s jaw drops when Yuuri shoves his own pants down, cups his hand under his mouth, and pushes Victor’s come out into his hand. He reaches down and uses it to slick his own cock, the sound lewd in the quiet of the hall.

“Turn around,” Yuuri rasps, “And keep your thighs together.”  Victor nods, stunned, and does exactly that, bracing his forehead on his arm. He’s got a pretty good idea of what’s coming, but it doesn’t prepare him for the shock of Yuuri’s hot, slick cock pushing between his thighs, brushing along his perineum and nudging his balls. Victor is already sensitive from coming, and the sensation makes him shudder with aftershocks. 

“Beautiful,” Yuuri murmurs as he thrusts. “So gorgeous. So good for me.”

The praise pours over Victor’s body like a waterfall, and he wants more. So much more. “For you, Yuuri,” he gasps, and tightens his thighs as best he can, Yuuri’s cock a rhythmic push and pull along his skin that sparks down his nerves, keeping him keyed up and twitching as Yuuri moves. “I want to be so good for you.”

“You will be. You are,” Yuuri pants and his fingers dig almost cruelly into Victor’s hips. His skin slaps against Victor’s, and Victor can feel Yuuri’s breath, hot and humid, between his shoulder blades.    
“My beautiful Victor.”

Victor moans, arousal starting to build. He’s fairly sure he’s not going to come again, but god this feels good. Being surrounded, overwhelmed by Yuuri’s passion. They’re not in a scene but that doesn’t matter in the least, because how they feel transcends the boundaries they’ve set in the past, the intensity of their relationship blurring the lines between play and not, each situation infusing the other with care and affection and …

_ The Victor I’m in love with, _ he hears Yuuri say.  __

Yuuri cries out and Victor can feel him shiver as he comes, Victor’s thighs catching most of it as it drips down his legs and into his pants. 

Yuuri gently pulls away from him, then turns him around with a hand on his hip before kissing him slowly, fully, his entire body pressed to Victor’s from chest to knees.

“Please say what you said earlier,” Victor whispers when he pulls back for breath. Yuuri’s eyes are huge in the darkness of the hall, and his forehead creases with a question. “Back on the ice. When you said you’d fallen in love with me.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, yes. Yes. God yes, Victor,” he says.  “I’d not really wanted to tell you that way, but god yes.” He lifts his eyes to Victor’s and smiles. “I love you.  I want you. I’m so out of my mind about you I just fucked you in the hall of my house and we broke a seventeenth century Arita bowl doing it and I don’t care in the least.”

Victor looks at the shards of blue and white porcelain on the floor and tries to be worried about it, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He leans back but keeps his arms looped around Yuuri’s waist, and tries to arrange the words he wants to say in his mind. They’re standing out in the open in the middle of Yuuri and Phichit’s house, pants around their knees, and Victor’s thighs are sticky with come, but he can’t imagine a situation more perfect for the two of them.

“Yuuri Katsuki, I’m so in love with you I can barely think straight,” he says, and watches Yuuri’s face bloom with a gorgeous, blushing smile. “You own me, body and soul. Everything. It’s yours for as long as you want me.”

“So, always, then,” Yuuri says with a kiss to the corner of Victor’s mouth. Victor nods, and they hold each other tightly, Victor’s hands wrapped around Yuuri’s back and Yuuri’s splayed across Victor’s collarbones, his first finger and thumb circling the base of Victor’s throat.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Victor blinks awake in a cloud of blue.

Blue sheets, blue duvet, blue pillows, and a shock of blue-black hair next to him. But if he looks more closely, there’s also the creamy curve of a bare shoulder, the sweet dip of a hip. Victor scoots closer, fitting his body into those curves until his lips barely graze the soft skin of Yuuri’s neck.

They’re in Yuuri’s bed, and Victor can hear the swish of rain against the windows. It’s morning, sometime, but it’s dim and cool, and Victor would stay right where he is forever if he could. But he’s also very aware that he needs to pee, and he sighs at his own body betraying him as he carefully works his way out from under the covers and pulls on his pants. 

Yuuri’s room is large, a corner fireplace with bright green tiles and intricately carved woodwork left from the original house, but as Victor looks around, he realizes that Yuuri’s penchant for antiques and turn of the century flair has stopped in the corner of the room opposite, as the huge flat desk humming with at least 3 laptops and a large flatscreen monitor shows. This must be where Yuuri does his work, because there is a collection of teacups and mugs scattered all over the worktop, and there, in the corner of his desk, a half-unfolded poster with a very familiar sweep of long, silver hair. Victor pads closer and has a look.

It’s Victor, back when he was in Juniors, so well over ten, maybe twelve years ago. The poster is old, creased and folded many times with yellowed tape stuck to the corners. Yuuri has obviously had it a long time, but it looks like it’s not really ever on display any more. 

Victor’s heart clenches when he realizes Yuuri probably dug it out last week. He looks at the lovingly-worn edges of the poster and realizes he feels nothing at all but gratitude for a life lived that brings them to where they are now, that there’s nothing but affection and respect in Yuuri’s old admiration of him as a skater, and nothing but love now in the way he holds Victor so close, teases and wants him, respects and loves the life he’s decided to live now. 

Yuuri shifts in his sleep, and Victor puts the poster down immediately and slips out the door.

The hallway is long, straight down the middle of the house, and if he had to guess, the closed door across from Yuuri is probably Phichit, and maybe another bedroom further along, and so the last door is likely the bathroom. He creeps down the hall and finds that yes, he’s correct, so he ducks inside and relieves himself, and washes his hands at the old-fashioned two-tap basin. 

The mirror shows a pile of wild sex hair and kiss-swollen lips, and if he had his phone right now he’d take a selfie and send it straight to Chris. Maybe the New York Times, too, just because he’s so happy he can barely contain himself. Yes, he’s with Yuuri Katsuki, yes, it was him Victor danced with on a humid night, yes, it’s Yuuri who leaves him half-dazed, love drunk and stupid, ready to move his life halfway across the world to stay by Yuuri’s side.

Victor blinks at himself.  Oh. Well, of course. 

You can write books anywhere, after all.

Victor feels immeasurably lighter after that rather startling decision, so he’s absolutely unprepared to open the door to find Phichit leaning against the wall opposite. He’s got his arms crossed and a thoughtful look on his face, and Victor steps back in a moment of panic. He’s either going to get the shovel talk for the ages or a punch in the face, he’s fairly sure.

“Oh, stop, seriously, I’m not going to do anything to you,” Phichit says dryly.

“What? Oh, no, I just. Um. Hi?” Victor stutters and realizes a second too late he’s not wearing a shirt as he reaches for the hem. He shoves his hands in his pockets instead. 

“How you have everyone believing you’re some sort of suave, sexy athlete is beyond me,” Phichit says. “But anyway. I’m not giving you a speech. You’re both adults. But I will say this: I’ve known Yuuri for years now, and he’s never let anyone in this deep. Not once. He’s probably an anxious wreck and he’s going to spin out worst case scenarios and then pretend like nothing’s wrong until one day you realize he’s locked himself away out of fear. Don’t let him do that.”

Victor nods, stunned. Yes, he can see that. “I’m going to try hard to keep that from happening,” he says, as earnestly as he can.

“Well, you can’t, not really,” Phichit says, thoughtful. “But just keep encouraging him to talk and listen without judgment. You know he’s strong, you’ve seen it. He’s got more control than you can possibly imagine in the playroom, but be careful with his heart outside of it, okay?”

Victor nods. “Got it. I’m going to make him as happy as I can, Phichit. He’s…everything to me.”

“Good. Then get back in there, because he’s not gotten laid outside of a scene in years so I’m like, sitting on half a decade of snarky texts and shit I’ve not been able to tease him with. Don’t let me down.” Phichit winks at him and Victor drops his head back and laughs, because what the hell even? 

“I’m going out with Chris for breakfast so you know this is coming up,” Phicht adds, as he turns to head downstairs. “And you owe me an Arita bowl, you asshole.”

“I’ll buy you two,” Victor promises, and makes his way back to Yuuri’s room. Yuuri stirs slightly on the pillow when Victor opens the door. “Morning,” he whispers, as he drops his pants and slides back into bed.

“Mmmph,” Yuuri mumbles and turns into Victor’s chest. “Don’t like mornings.” He presses a kiss to Victor’s sternum and Victor shivers a bit. “I do like this, though.” Yuuri kisses his chest again, before dragging his mouth over to lave a hot, wet tongue against Victor’s nipple. Victor gasps, cock stirring and body starting to hum.

“I’ll take any morning you can give me if it’s like this,” Victor says and arches under Yuuri’s mouth. “Fuck, Yuuri.”

“Mmmm. That’s the idea,” Yuuri says, and slides up Victor’s body, turning him onto his back and settling into the cradle of Victor’s hips. He’s hard, pulsing against the crease of Victor’s groin, and when he rolls his hips Victor groans aloud. 

“Tell me you’ve got lube up here,” Victor says, and trails his fingers down the dip in Yuuri’s spine and over his ass. 

Yuuri stops stock still and Victor blinks at him in confusion. 

“Um, well…” Yuuri starts, then drops his head to Victor’s chest, blushing.

“You’re kidding,” Victor groans. “It’s all in the playroom, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” Yuuri says. “It’s not like I really needed it up here!” 

Victor shifts until he can flip Yuuri over and pin him down to the bed, Yuuri squirming and giggling and Victor leaning heavily over him until he can get a hand on his ass. He pulls back and swats him once, not really very hard, but it certainly makes a nice sound. 

“Hey!” Yuuri says, giggling. “That is  _ not _ how this is supposed to work!” 

“Nope, sorry, you get three for failing to plan,” Victor says, and spanks him again. Yuuri flails and kicks and Victor almost loses his hold because  _ goddamn, _ Yuuri is strong. He tickles Yuuri’s waist until Yuuri is helpless with laughter and he gives him one last smack on the ass before letting go and falling back on the bed, laughing and out of breath.  Yuuri catches his breath for a moment and then, in a lightning fast move Victor really should have expected, flips over and has Victor pinned to the bed, arms over his head and Yuuri’s hands tightened over his wrists.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, Nikiforov,” Yuuri purrs, eyes dark with desire, a flash of Victor’s Master dancing in his eyes.

“Yes,  _ please _ ,” Victor says, and drowns in Yuuri’s kiss.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The next two weeks pass in a blur. Victor spends almost every evening with Yuuri, sleeping in his bed and heading home in the morning to write while Yuuri works, then coming back over for dinner, either eating with Phichit in front of their ridiculously large TV, or taking Yuuri out, or meeting Chris and Phichit for drinks before, hilariously, splitting off in the front hall of the house one evening and watching Chris meekly follow Phichit down into the playroom after throwing Victor a wink.

Well. That answers that question.

“I sort of want to watch,” Victor tells Yuuri on their way upstairs, “But I’m also terrified.”

Yuuri pulls Victor into his bedroom and closes the door. “Well, they’ve not asked for a monitor so it’s not gotten too crazy yet,” Yuuri says, and strips off his shirt before lying across the bed and gazing up at Victor from under his eyelashes, the planes of his chest in shadowy relief in the dim lamplight. He knows how to really turn Victor on, dammit, and Victor almost trips out his pants. But even as they come together, Yuuri’s voice turning breathless in the night, Victor can’t help but feel a little niggle of worry at the back of his mind.  Everything has been wonderful and he’s been incredibly happy, but there’s something…missing.

“Yuuri,” he says afterward, sweaty and tangled together. “May I ask you something?”

He can feel Yuuri tense just slightly, and tilt his head to presumably look down at where Victor is resting against his chest. “Of course. Anything.”

Victor takes a deep breath. This is almost harder than asking him out the first time, but he needs to know. “These last few weeks have been amazing.  I’m really happy, I promise I am. But…why haven’t you asked me back to the playroom?  Is that not something you want anymore?” He hates how small his voice sounds, but God, he needs to know.

“Oh. Oh, Victor,” Yuuri says, and shifts around until he can look Victor in the face. “Oh, my love. Of course it is. I just didn’t want to push you. I wanted to be sure you were ready, that you trusted me. That you still wanted it.”

“God, yes,” Victor says, relieved. “Yes, please. I do want it. I want you, Sir. I need you.”

Victor can see tears sparkling at the corner of Yuuri’s eyes. “Oh, my…my beauty,” he says, voice hitching on the name Victor’s waited so long to hear again. “I’m so happy to hear that. Just give me a couple of days to sort out some things and I’ll take care of you. I promise.” Yuuri wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight, and Victor can feel the tight knot of worry that had wormed its way into his stomach start to relax.

“Friday, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and passes his hand through Victor’s hair, a loving caress that warms Victor down to his toes. “You’ll be all mine on Friday.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You want a 17th century Arita bowl? [Here you go.](http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/Lot/a-teabowl-chawan-and-an-arita-bowl-5565762-details.aspx)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He opens the velvet box and there, nestled against the white satin interior, is the gold choker necklace he bought at Cartier all those weeks ago, still waiting. It’s perfect, not a smudge or smear marking the polished surface, and Yuuri snaps the box closed and puts it back on the table, the butterflies turning into a trickle of nervous fear.
> 
> No. No fear. Yuuri knows his Beauty, knows his desires and his tastes, knows what he wants. He wants only Yuuri, and he’s going to have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here, the end. Or is it just the beginning? We'll see. But thank you, all of you, who've come with me on this journey. I've never written a single piece this long, and I have a feeling there will be a few more pieces in this same universe over time.  
> And a special thanks to my two betas. Without Liz and A_N_D, this fic wouldn't have ever made it as far as it has. Their encouragement and expertise has been invaluable. Thank you, both of you. <3

If there’s one thing Yuuri has always been confident about in his life as a Dominant, it’s that he knows how to set a scene. He thinks it’s possibly due to his history as a performer, as a dancer; he’s trained for years in the deep understanding of how performance can impact emotion, both for the audience and the performer. He needs that tonight, needs the seduction and the romance of a perfect scene, to find the confidence to ask the question he’s holding in his heart.  

The playroom lights are off in favor of a dozen red pillar candles scattered throughout the space, casting warm, flickering light and setting off dancing shadows in the corners. He dragged a few of their larger potted palms down into the basement and set them up in a screen between the lounge and the rest of the playroom, and then set dozens of long-stemmed, deep red roses into tall, footed vases in the corners of the makeshift space.  A table next to the lounge holds the large silver candelabra set with five white tapers, two white pillars set in a dish, a bottle of massage oil, an ice bucket, and a flat, square black velvet jeweler’s box.

But now, the attention to detail he’s known and sought out for, has built a reputation around for over five years, ends tonight, if the evening  goes as he hopes. No more messages on FetLife, no more random meetups at parties. No strangers. No flashy, last-minute hookups with people he may or may not ever see again. 

Just Victor. 

Just the idea of it makes him fluttery inside. They've had a few weeks now of joyous discovery and rediscovery, of sweet, slow lovemaking and wild, stupid sex, sure, but also of learning to love and live with and around each other. Yuuri learns Victor hates green peppers and has a weakness for KDrama; Victor learns, to Yuuri’s chagrin, that he’s a sucker for classic Hollywood musicals and will put a glass on the side of the sink every single time instead of  _ putting it in the goddamn dishwasher, Jesus, Yuuri, I tell you this every fucking day. _

(“You see what stupid shit I put up with, right, Victor?” Phichit had said. Victor just nodded and smiled and said not a word until he walked into his own kitchen to find three glasses by the sink and “Yuuri, just put them in the dishwasher!” came out of his mouth.  Yuuri had collapsed on the sofa with a groan. “From now on I’m just drinking out of the container and fuck both of you.”)

It’s been a wonderful few weeks. Almost idyllic, even as Yuuri waited and watched Victor carefully for any sign that an invitation back to the playroom might be accepted. He was considering just asking outright, wondering if Victor could trust him yet or if he even wanted that side of their relationship anymore, when Victor had pinned him with those big blue eyes and asked him why they hadn’t gone back. As if he thought Yuuri no longer wanted him there.

Yuuri shakes his head as he drapes the lounge with a black sheet. Their time in the playroom is part of who they are, and he was foolish to think it wasn’t as important to Victor as it is to him. Victor is still so new at this, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t crave it, need it, like Yuuri does.

He opens the velvet box and there, nestled against the white satin interior, is the gold choker necklace he bought at Cartier all those weeks ago, still waiting. It’s perfect, not a smudge or smear marking the polished surface, and Yuuri snaps the box closed and puts it back on the table, the butterflies turning into a trickle of nervous fear. 

No. No fear. Yuuri knows his Beauty, knows his desires and his tastes, knows what he wants. He wants only Yuuri, and he’s going to have him. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

It’s 6:50 pm, and Yuuri is squirreled away in the downstairs playroom bath. He examines his eyeliner for the sixth time, smudges it out a little more and checks his black sleeveless shirt for stray lint. His black leather pants fit perfectly, skin tight down to his bare feet, and he fiddles with his swept back hair, gluing a stray back into the mass of it with a touch more product. 

Then Yuuri drops to the floor and leans back against the side of the tub.

He’s not going to wait on the other side of the upstairs door. He’s not going to know what time Victor walks into the playroom, because he knows, and trusts, that Victor will be waiting for him at 7:05 pm without fail.

He checks his watch anyway.

Nervous anticipation has him worrying at the edge of his thumb with his teeth. What if Victor is spooked by the collar? What if he doesn’t want that sort of exclusivity? What if he wants to experience other Doms, other styles of play?

Yuuri clunks his head back against the rim of the tub. He’s got to be delusional. How on earth is he, Yuuri Katsuki, going to keep this man? How is he going to keep a sub, the  _ same _ sub, happy and satisfied for…for…

_ Forever,  _ his mind whispers.

The door to the playroom clicks closed and Yuuri jumps to his feet. He wipes his sweaty hands on a towel and takes a deep breath. He must be calm, centered. In control. 

He imagines Victor’s low voice whispering “Sir,” and he can feel the nervousness wane.  He waits three minutes, opens the door and there, exactly as he requested, is his Beauty, fully dressed and perched on the edge of the lounge, back straight and proud. He looks up as the door opens, and when he sees Yuuri, his entire face lights up. 

Yuuri crosses the room quickly and takes Victor’s hands in his. “I’m so, so glad to see you,” he says, and tilts Victor’s chin up. Victor smiles into a soft kiss, then pulls back just slightly.

“I’m so happy to be here, sir,” he says, and the tickle of his breath on Yuuri’s lips slides warm down his spine. Any lingering doubts Yuuri may have had fade away under the absolute certainty of this feeling, of the warmth and belonging and love he feels from the man sitting in front of him with absolute devotion.

Yes. It’s time. 

“I know this isn’t how we usually start,” Yuuri says, “But I wanted to talk to you, first. Is that okay?” 

Victor nods. “Is everything alright?” he asks, fingers moving toward the hem of his shirt. He’s slightly nervous, then, Yuuri notes, and files that away in the back of his mind. He would be, yes, when Yuuri asked him to sit on the lounge and not kneel on the cushion, but it’s vital that Victor not be completely immersed quite yet.

“Of course.” Yuuri steps to the table and picks up the black velvet box. It feels heavy in his hands, and he hopes they don’t tremble.

“It’s really beautiful in here,” Victor says, then trails off as he sees the box in Yuuri’s hands. His eyes go wide but he doesn’t say another word, just stares at Yuuri with a thousand questions in his gaze and his lips slightly parted. 

“My Victor,” Yuuri says, and slips to his knees, box held out in front of him with both hands. “I’ve had this for a while now, since the day after the party. I knew, then, that I wanted to make you mine.”

“Oh my god,” Victor whispers, and covers his mouth with his hands.

“These last few months with you have been everything I’ve ever wanted.  Everything about you is so perfect to me. For me. Even though we almost screwed the whole thing up we found our way back here, and I’m so happy, and so grateful. And so in love with you, Victor.” Yuuri opens the box and moves a bit closer until the heat of Victor’s body is a tangible thing, a weight pressing in against his skin and he sinks into it willingly, lets it anchor him. “Will you do me the honor of accepting this? Of accepting me? You own me, Victor Nikiforov, body and soul, and I want the world to know it.”

Victor’s hands are still covering his mouth when he nods a frantic yes, and then, before Yuuri can take the collar out of its box and put it around Victor’s slim throat, Victor slides off of the lounge and straddles Yuuri’s lap and buries his head in his chest, long arms wrapped around Yuuri’s back. 

“I love you, Yuuri. I just wanted to say that now, before anything else. I love you, and I am so happy to be yours.”

Yuuri just holds him tighter, swallowing heavily against the tears he can feel welling up in his eyes. “I love you too, Victor,” he says, and he buries his face in Victor’s sweet-smelling hair. “God, how I love you.”

Victor sniffs against Yuuri’s chest. “We are an absolute mess of a couple, you know?”

Yuuri rubs his back. “No, we’re not. We’re us. I think we’re perfect.” Yuuri pulls back and lifts Victor’s tearstained face up for a slow, searching kiss, one that pours everything he’s feeling into Victor’s body, one that leaves him lightheaded and giddy when they part.

“May I please put this on you now?” Yuuri asks.

“Yes, oh god. Yes, please. It’s so incredibly beautiful.” Victor pulls the collar from its box and holds it on his palms. “Please collar me, my Yuuri,” he says sweetly, and the atmosphere shifts in an instant, Yuuri feeling the sharper edges of his personality wanting to come out and play, his body tightening in response to the soft supplication in Victor’s words.

“Then strip and kneel on the cushion, my beauty,” he says, and nips Victor’s lower lip as he takes the collar from his hands. Victor scrambles off Yuuri’s lap and begins to undress, tossing his clothes on the small chair by the door and turning with lethal grace to sashay across the playroom and sink to his knees with a wink. 

Oh, this is trouble. He’s in a playful, giddy mood tonight and Yuuri knows that means he’s going to push. But then again, whose fault is that, exactly, when Yuuri’s feeling the same way?

Yuuri unclips the clasp on the choker and opens it, the metal flexible enough to bend open just enough to slide around Victor’s elegant neck. Yuuri moves behind him and clicks the clasp closed again, then hooks the safety chain as well. 

It’s perfect.

The gold is warm and liquid in the candlelight, in contrast to Victor’s porcelain skin and fair hair. Yuuri imagines every gold medal Victor has ever won in the shine against his skin.

“You look amazing,” Yuuri breathes, and Victor shivers. 

“Thank you, sir,” he says, and tilts his head a bit until the collar settles where it’s comfortable. “It’s heavier than I expected.”

“Mmm. Twenty four karat gold is a bit weighty. But it’s only for when we’re here. I don’t expect you to wear it all the time. Nor is there a lock. You may remove it at any time you wish.”

“But what if I want to wear it out somewhere?” Victor asks, a gleam in his eye.

Yuuri shivers. Taking Victor out in public with his collar on? Yes, please. “Then we’ll do that, too.”

“Good.” Victor preens a bit and tries to look down and catch a glimpse of the gold around his neck. “I need a mirror.”

“Later,” Yuuri says, and moves to stand behind Victor, and lightly presses two fingertips to the nape of his neck, right under the edge of his collar. “I think we have some things to attend to first, don’t you, my beauty?”

Victor stills and drops his head to his chest, palms pressed to his thighs. “Please,” he whispers, and Yuuri slips his fingers down Victor’s spine with exaggerated slowness, feeling every bump and ridge of the bones until he reaches the inviting curve of his ass. He drags his fingers between the cheeks of Victor’s ass and yes, his plug is right where Yuuri wants it. 

“Good boy,” he says, and gives it a tweak. Victor startles and sighs. 

“Only for you, sir,” Victor groans, and tips his head back to expose that long, glorious throat, now with Yuuri’s collar gleaming around it.

Jesus, it turns Yuuri on to see it, to see evidence of his claim and of Victor’s devotion. He can feel himself growing hard already, and when he steps around to help Victor rise from the cushion, he can see from the way Victor’s cock has started to thicken he’s not alone. But it’s not time to indulge yet, not when they’ve got so much yet to do.

“I want you to lie back on the lounge,” Yuuri says, and watches as Victor obediently settles himself. Yuuri approaches and lifts one ankle, kisses the slight protrusion of bone on the inside, and watches Victor shiver. “I’m going to cuff your ankles and wrists, one to each corner. Color?”

“Green,” Victor says quickly, and Yuuri smirks at the way his eyes flare wide and his arms settle over his head. He quickly buckles a leather cuff to Victor’s ankle and clips it onto the loop he wrapped around the leg of the lounge as Victor watches, his chest rising and falling with his breath, coming heavy now as Yuuri lifts his other ankle, brushes his lips along the arch of his foot, and buckles it into a restraint.

Victor’s toes curl as Yuuri draws a fingertip along the inside of his knee. “Oh god,” he whispers. “You just started. I’m so screwed.”

Yuuri snickers. “Just enjoy, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and walks around the lounge to draw one of Victor’s wrists out and buckle it into a similar cuff as for his ankles. “You’re going to scream my name before this is over,” Yuuri whispers, his lips just barely brushing the shell of Victor’s ear. “You’re going to beg me to come.”

Victor stops watching Yuuri restrain his wrists and just drops his head back against the lounge, skin erupting in goosebumps at Yuuri’s words. “Whatever you want,” he says, and Yuuri can feel the thrill of Victor’s obedience settle in his heart, in his very core. Victor has no idea what Yuuri has planned, no concept of what exactly Yuuri will do to him, but he quietly accepts it without question, trusts Yuuri to take good care of him, to make him happy and satisfied in his submission.

Christ, Yuuri loves this man. He can’t help but lean over his head and give him an upside down kiss as soon as he’s finished with his wrists. “You’re so good,” he says, and Victor smiles against his lips. “Such a good boy. Now.” Yuuri straightens and picks up the bottle of massage oil. “Let’s get you nice and relaxed, okay?”

Victor’s eyebrows rise as he watches Yuuri pour out some oil onto his hands, and he releases a breathless moan as Yuuri straddles him and begins to massage it into his stomach and chest. “Feels so good, sir,” he sighs, and closes his eyes as Yuuri slicks his hands over the defined biceps, over his strong shoulders. Victor’s skin is smooth and hot, begging Yuuri to press his lips to it, to feel the beat of his heart through his veins, the excitement that they both crave surging under his lips. He has a plan, however, and he’s going to stick to it, and as much as he wants to lose himself in Victor’s body, he also wants to make it sing with pleasure at his hands. 

He climbs off and picks up the white pillar candle from the small dish it’s resting in. It’s been lit long enough that a really nice pool of melted wax has developed in the center, and Yuuri carefully holds it in front of him, but still away from Victor’s body. 

“Open your eyes, Victor,” Yuuri says, and watches as Victor takes in the candle he’s holding. A smile tugs at his lips. “Yes, I thought we’d try this tonight. You seemed interested at the party. Turn your hand over for me?” Victor does, and Yuuri tilts the candle so a tiny stream of wax lands on the back of his hand. Victor’s fingers twitch.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “That’s not as bad as I thought it might be.”

“It’s a little lower melt point than regular candlewax. Phichit makes these himself, just for us. Color?”

“Green,” Victor replies easily, and the candlelight flickers, reflecting in his eyes as he watches. He looks serene and beautiful, stretched out and tied down to the lounge, candlelight warm and glowing on his skin and glittering on his collar. Not for the first time, Yuuri finds himself forgetful of what he’s doing, content to just look at him for a few moments. 

“Sir?” Victor asks.

“I was just thinking how beautiful you are,” Yuuri says, and shakes himself out of his daze. “And all mine.”

“Yes,” Victor whispers. “I’m all yours. Please, show me.”

Yuuri nods and holds the candle over Victor’s sternum. Victor’s eyes are glued to the flame as Yuuri tilts the candle, and at the first touch of wax to skin, Victor gasps and tilts his head back, collar on full display. Yuuri swells with pride at how beautifully Victor wears his submission, Yuuri’s ownership. Yuuri tilts the candle again until the pool of wax slips over the side and cascades onto Victor’s chest in a thin white line that Yuuri draws from the hollow of his throat to his belly button.

Victor snaps taut against his restraints. “Fuck,” he whispers.

Yes, this is perfect. “Just feel,” Yuuri replies, and pours another trail next to the first, from his stomach to his clavicle. Victor squirms slightly and gasps, the wax hardening almost immediately when it contacts his skin. Yuuri waits for the sting to subside and retrieves a small piece of ice from the bucket on the table and pops it into his mouth. He rolls the ice around until his tongue, his lips, and the inside of his mouth are absolutely freezing, and then he quickly pours another line opposite the last before bending forward and taking Victor’s nipple into his mouth. The effect is instantaneous: Victor arching his back and swearing as Yuuri continues to tongue him. 

“Holy shit, Yuuri,” Victor says, panting.

Yuuri slaps him on the flank and Victor jumps. “I think you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking to,” he says, and Victor tilts his head back.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I’m so sorry, but oh my God, more, please. Please.”

Yuuri draws an X across his chest with the wax and takes Victor’s other nipple into his mouth, holding the nub between his teeth and lapping at it with his tongue. Victor’s chest has a nice coating now, but he’s not quite finished. Victor watches with wide eyes as Yuuri pours circles around his belly button, careful to keep the hot wax away from his red and straining cock, and then Yuuri sets a single ice cube to melt in the hollow of Victor’s belly button. He laughs as a full-body shudder takes Victor’s body, melted water trickling over his sides and down into the sheet below him.

“Ah, God. Sir. Please. I need…I need…” he says and pulls hard on his restraints, his eyes begging Yuuri for release.

Yuuri needs to remind him of his place. “Mmmm. I’ll give you what you need, my beauty. Don’t worry.” Yuuri climbs over him and brushes a kiss along Victor’s jaw and down his throat, over the curve of his shoulder and bicep. Yuuri loves watching him shiver under his hands, loves the way his breath hitches when the sensations are on the edge of too much. He can feel the way Victor is melting under pressure, the way he strains against Yuuri’s control and then ultimately succumbs, like he does now, when Yuuri trails his fingertips over Victor’s chest and down over his cock.

“You’re so very hard,” Yuuri says. “I think you should stay this way for a while.” He pulls a rubber cock ring from his pocket and trails it up Victor’s shaft until it loops over the head, but is still loose in Yuuri’s fingers. “Color?” he asks.

There’s a pause. “Green,” Victor says, but Yuuri slows down, slips the ring carefully over Victor’s cock and balls, and watches him as he settles the ring into place. Victor shifts slightly but doesn’t say another word, and Yuuri checks that it isn’t too tight. Victor watches him intently as Yuuri climbs off and stands next to the lounge, before slowly and deliberately unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

“It would be a shame to let that gorgeous thing go to waste,” Yuuri says, and shimmies out of his pants and slips his shirt off. Victor’s mouth drops open when Yuuri straddles him, settling with Victor’s cock resting in the crease of his ass. “You’re not going to come, Victor. Not until I tell you. Do you understand?” 

Victor nods. “I do. But what happens if I can’t help it?”

“Then you’ll get five with my crop, bent over the bench. Clear?”

Victor swallows. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t worry,” Yuuri says. “I know you can do it.” He grinds down over Victor’s lap, his own cock leaving a drip of precome across the white wax that cracks and flakes as Victor’s stomach contracts with the sensation. Yuuri slips backward just enough that he can reach behind himself and slick Victor’s cock with a handful of lube. He took over an hour to prepare himself earlier, stretching and slicking his own body, but it’s going to be so worth it for this.

“Are you—“ Victor starts, and Yuuri just winks at him as he positions Victor’s cock at his entrance and begins to slide down, slow and easy, the breach shocking in its almost unfamiliarity. Victor is hot and hard, and it’s been so long since Yuuri has opened himself in this way to anyone, but he wants this, wants Victor inside him, part of him, wants to bring him pleasure with his body in ways both intimate and divine, deep and lasting. 

“Sir,” Victor says, the syllable drawn out on a sigh. His hips shift and his cock pushes deeper into Yuuri’s body. “I’ve dreamt of you like this,” he moans as Yuuri seats himself fully.

“Only for you,” Yuuri groans and rocks gently, Victor’s cock barely moving in his body. He lifts himself slightly and drops back down, the impact making Victor grunt, helpless against the restraints that prevent him from getting a grip on Yuuri’s thighs. He can only lie helpless as Yuuri rides him, gaining speed as his body adjusts, Victor’s breathy moans echoing in the playroom and driving Yuuri’s desire higher and higher. Yuuri watches as Victor begins to toss his head from side to side, the heat of Yuuri’s body encouraging him, teasing him, bringing him to the edge.

“Look at you,” Yuuri coos, and leans forward to lace his fingers with Victor’s, the gold barbells in his nipples brushing against Victor’s wax-covered skin. “I haven’t taken a dick in years, baby. How am I doing?” Yuuri rolls his hips and Victor cries out.

“Yellow,” he sobs, desperate. “Yellow yellow  _ yellow _ .” 

Yuuri stills instantly. “Are you too close?”

Victor nods quickly. “I don’t want to fuck up, I want to be good, please, sir, help—“

“Shhhh, baby, you’re okay. Deep breaths, okay? Breathe deep for me. Focus on my eyes.”

Victor pries his eyes open and Yuuri squeezes his fingers, hoping the slight pain will distract him from the pressure in his groin. He’s not going to go soft, even if he does come, but Yuuri needs to remember that Victor still has a lot to learn about control. So he waits, absolutely still with Victor’s cock still buried in his body, until the panic fades from Victor’s eyes as they breathe together.

“Better?” Yuuri asks.

“Yeah,” Victor breathes. “God, you feel so good. Want to fuck you harder,” he pants, and before Yuuri can begin to move again, Victor manages to get his heels under him and gains enough leverage to fuck up into Yuuri’s body, making him gasp with the jolt to his prostate.

“Oh shit, Victor, that’s. Not what we’re doing,” Yuuri says, and tries to ignore the shiver that goes down his spine.  

“You didn’t say I couldn’t, though,” Victor says, and rocks Yuuri on his lap again, his powerful thighs and hips jolting Yuuri on his cock without using his hands. Holy Christ, his entire body is buzzing with the feeling, a momentary shift in power that leaves him startled and incredibly, unexpectedly, turned on. Yuuri leans forward and grabs Victor’s shoulders to steady himself, wrestle back his own control.

“Spirit of the rule, not the letter, my beauty,” Yuuri says, and uses his weight to pin Victor’s shoulders down and kiss him, his tongue swirling into Victor’s mouth and making him moan. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Victor huffs a pout against Yuuri’s mouth but stops moving, and Yuuri slowly pulls off of Victor’s body. Victor whimpers at the loss of contact and Yuuri himself feels strangely hollow, their connection broken for the moment. Yuuri looks carefully and realizes he left just a tiny too much slack in the ankle lines, and when he gives Victor a wry look, Victor just laughs.

“Not going to punish me for not following the spirit of the law, are you, sir?” he asks, and flutters his eyelashes. 

“No,” Yuuri says, and unclips his ankles to quickly push Victor’s knees up and apart until Yuuri can grasp the base of his plug, the plug that’s been bumping his prostate every time Yuuri rocked against him, and pull it out carefully. “But you’d better be ready for me.” Yuuri grabs a pump of lube and slicks his cock, and Victor sucks in a breath as Yuuri pushes the head of his cock against Victor’s hole.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready. Fuck me, sir. Please.” Yuuri can feel the way his body relaxes in Yuuri’s hold, the way his thighs loosen and hips shift, readying his body to take Yuuri in, to accept him. Yuuri pushes forward and shifts Victor’s legs until he’s spread wide open and he presses forward, his cock slowly slipping into the slick heat of Victor’s body.

“Yes, my beauty. Let me in.” Yuuri thrusts forward until he can feel the brush of Victor’s thighs against his sides. “Color?”

“Green,” Victor gasps, “Harder, please.”

Yuuri fans his fingers over Victor’s hipbones and snaps his hips hard, Victor’s body jolting against the lounge. He gasps and sighs every time Yuuri’s body meets his, his cock deep red and leaking against his stomach, his body tightening with every thrust. He’s close again, his eyes clenched closed and breath coming in heavy pants. Yuuri pulls the cock ring off, leans forward and braces himself on one elbow and slips the first two fingers of his other hand into Victor’s collar. 

“Please, sir, I can’t…I can’t…” Victor pants, the flush on his neck and chest deepening, sweat beading on the edge of his hair.

Yuuri kisses his shoulder. “Not yet, you can make it. Come on, sweetheart. Be a good boy for me.” Victor whimpers and closes his eyes as Yuuri continues to fuck him, his thrusts deep and relentless. The edge of the gold band bites into Yuuri’s fingers, Victor’s skin soft and warm against the back of his hand, and he waits until Victor’s fingers clench into fists before he leans forward and whispers against Victor’s mouth.

“Come, my beauty. Come for me.”

Victor’s eyes fly open and he gasps, and Yuuri watches as relief floods across his face. Yuuri keeps his hold on Victor’s collar and fucks him as deeply as he can manage, then, without warning, shifts his weight to his knees and strokes Victor’s cock with a tight hand.

Victor’s body arches off of the lounge as his orgasm rips through his body, mouth open on a silent scream. Yuuri can feel his own orgasm building as Victor shivers to pieces around him, and as he reaches the peak he can only bury his forehead against Victor’s chest and groan heavily into his skin.

“I love you, sir,” Victor murmurs, as Yuuri comes down from his high. “I love you.”

Yuuri lets go of Victor’s collar, the edge leaving an indent along his fingers. The gold clinks slightly as it settles back into place across Victor’s throat and Victor smiles, sleepy and pleased. Yuuri kisses him, gently, and slides out of his body.

“I love you too, my beauty. My Victor.”

“Always,” Victor says.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The bath is hot and inviting, and this time Yuuri slips in behind Victor without being asked and settles Victor’s body against his chest. Victor already is dozing in the steamy, scented water that Yuuri had covered in rose petals from a rose he’d plucked on the way into the bathroom, and he massages away any stiffness in Victor’s shoulders and pinches off little bits of stray wax he didn’t remove earlier.

“Mmm. Keep doing that,” Victor says.

“Spoiled.” 

Victor smiles and holds a petal between his fingers.  “You know you love it.”

Yes, he certainly does. Yuuri kisses the crown of his head and reaches to unclasp Victor’s collar but before he can get the safety chain off Victor stirs from his sleepy haze.

“No,” he mumbles. “Want to keep it on.”

Yuuri’s heart lifts. “I just was trying to keep it out of the soap, sweetheart. But I’ll leave it if you like.”

Victor hums approval and settles himself. Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s chest and nestles his chin over Victor’s shoulder.  His body is humming with satisfaction and he’s overwhelmed with love for the man in his arms, but now that they’ve cemented their commitment to each other, what happens next? It’s August, and Victor is due to go home to Russia in just a few weeks. The thought sits like a stone in Yuuri’s stomach, and he tightens his hold almost involuntarily.

“What’s wrong?” Victor whispers, as he plays with Yuuri’s fingers, teasing the web of skin between them, rubbing over the knuckles in a sweet exploration before raising Yuuri’s hand to his lips and giving it a soft kiss.

Yuuri sighs. “I’m just thinking about what we’ll do when you go back to St. Petersburg,” he says. “I’ll miss you so much. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to visit.”

Victor pulls himself out of Yuuri’s arms and turns around until he’s facing him, the water swirling and sloshing over the side as he moves. “Yuuri,” he says. “What if I didn’t go back?”

Yuuri gapes at him. “What?”

Victor scoots forward and takes Yuuri’s hands again. “What if I renewed the lease on the apartment and stayed here?” His eyes are bright and hopeful, and Yuuri tries to process exactly what he’s hearing as Victor keeps talking. “I can finish the book here. I can stay with you. And then…well. We’ll see where it takes us?”

Yuuri’s heart feels like it could burst out of his chest. “Oh my god. That’s … wonderful. You’d really do that?”

“Of course I would!”

“Wait, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” Yuuri says. “You’ve probably got a house and everything there, and a whole life, and —“

Victor grasps his hands. “There is nothing there that’s more important than what I have with you. I can keep the apartment for a while, if that makes you feel better. But I want to try this, with you. I love you, and I can’t imagine leaving. Not now.”

Yuuri crawls into his lap and grasps his face with both hands, kissing him deeply, fully, his hands sliding around Victor’s shoulders as Victor’s hands skim down his back and pull him closer. Yuuri can’t stop smiling against his mouth, and Victor keeps trying to kiss his lips while Yuuri breaks out in happy giggles. 

“Now that’s settled, let’s get out before we’re prunes,” Victor says. He stands, water cascading down his gorgeous body, and then climbs out to dry off. Yuuri only stares.  There’s something in Victor’s grace, in the way he carries himself, even in the simple way he combs his fingers through his wet hair and now preens in the mirror and examines his collar that captivates Yuuri every time. 

Then he’s hit in the face with a towel and he scrambles to catch it before it falls into the water. “I’m still going to be here, Yuuri,” Victor says, dryly. “You can blink. I promise I won’t disappear.” 

Yuuri feels himself flush. “Can’t help it. It’s like looking at a painting, sometimes. I keep studying you, and I always see something new.”

Victor wraps his towel around his waist and walks over to the tub to peck Yuuri on the lips. “I’m helpless when you say sweet things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuuri pulls on some track pants and then ushers Victor back out into the playroom to pick up his clothes.  Victor still hasn’t taken off his collar, but Yuuri is going to leave it to him to decide when he wants to. Victor steps into his underwear and jeans and then looks at Yuuri uncertainly, shifting uncomfortably as he retrieves his shirt from the floor, and pats his pockets to check for his phone and wallet before looking at Yuuri, obviously wanting to say something but not quite daring.

Yuuri takes a moment to get it, but he does.

“Stay,” he says, a hand on Victor’s arm. “Stay with me tonight. Come upstairs and we’ll get Indian food and sit on the sofa and hassle Phichit when he comes home. This is part of our life together, too. Stay. Be with me tonight.”

Victor grins and tucks his shirt under his arm before pulling Yuuri to him for a sweet kiss. “Yes. For as long as you’ll have me,” he says. 

Yuuri looks around the playroom, illuminated in the flickering candlelight,  and sees the shards of wax all over the black sheet, the black leather cuffs dropped on the floor, the roses that glow with the warmth of love. The aftermath of their play is scattered across the room, but he’ll deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, he has Victor. He walks around the room and blows the candles out one by one and then takes Victor by the hand and leads him out of the playroom and into the rest of their lives. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to pick a song that really encapsulates this fic, I'd have to say it would have to be [Yours to Shake, by Greylag.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhEhI4QUUgo)

**Author's Note:**

> Florentine: A flashy flogging technique where two floggers move in overlapping figure 8 patterns. Demo here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgKMebSoZr4


End file.
